The Room
by Michelle Knight 1188
Summary: When their car gets a flat tire in the middle of nowhere, Sam and Dean manage to acquire a room for the night at an old Inn. Little do they know that before the night is over they will face their greatest fears as they fight for their lives in The Room.
1. Chapter 1

I got the idea for this story when I saw the movie 1408. It made me wonder what would happen to Sam and Dean in a similar situation. I hope you like it!

"You have got to be kidding me!" Dean yelled angrily as he crouched in a muddy puddle of water beside the Impala. Sam stood behind him, hands shoved in his pockets and his hood pulled up over his head, trying in vain to escape getting totally drenched by the pouring rain. A bolt of lightning lit up their surroundings for a brief moment, and in that moment Sam was finally able to see what Dean was so upset about. "So we've got a flat tire, then?" he said lamely.

Dean glared up at him. "What gave you that idea? Was it the massive nail sticking out of it, because that was my first clue."

It was just one of those days, Sam thought. "Well, do we have a spare tire?"

Dean shook his head and his glare deepened. "No…we used it a few months ago and with everything that's been happening I kept forgetting to get another one…damn it!" He stood up, opened the door and got back inside the car.

Sam walked around and got in the other side, glad to get out of the rain. It didn't really make a difference though, because even though they had only been outside for a few minutes they were already soaked. "Where are we anyway?" He asked his brother. Dean just shrugged, "Somewhere in Pennsylvania…I think."

"You think??" Sam asked in disbelief.

"Hey, don't look at me like that! I didn't see you giving me any great driving directions, college boy!"

"I was asleep! Sleeping people don't usually give directions, Dean!" Sam said, stating the obvious. He sighed, and took another look out the window. It was eleven' o'clock at night and pitch black out, and all he could see were lots of trees. He looked back at Dean. "What map were you using?"

Dean met his eyes and then looked away. "Map?"

"You weren't using a map?!" Sam shouted. "We could be anywhere!"

"I was thinking about…about…stuff, okay?" Dean said defensively. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

Sam's next comment died on his lips, and he just sat back further in his seat and looked out the window at their bleak surroundings. Dean had been thinking…God only knew what he had been thinking about. At this point in their lives they both had enough worries and painful memories to keep them thinking every second of every day, but all in all it was best not to think about them and instead pretend that things were okay. At least, that was Dean's philosophy. Sam glanced at his brother and was about to say something but Dean beat him to it.

"Do you see that?" Dean asked. "There's a light straight ahead of us to the left a little—the trees are blocking most of the light but it's still there."

Sam looked where Dean was pointing and saw a faint light shining in the distance. "Yeah, I see it. So what?"

"So, let's go check it out." Dean said, and opened his door. Sam stared at him. "Are you crazy?? It's pouring out there! Why don't we just spend the night in the Impala and then look for help in the morning?"

Dean looked away. "I'm not tired, Sammy." he said softly, and then shut the door and started walking down the road toward the light.

Sam stared at him for a moment. "This is crazy…" he muttered to himself, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep. He knew, however, that in a moment he was going to get out of the car and follow his brother. They would stick together no matter what…at least for another year. Sam shook his head, shoving that unwanted thought to the back of his mind. He opened the door and got out of the car.

The light ended up being a streetlamp, and it illuminated an ancient looking three-story building that a faded and peeling wooden sign labeled 'Mountain Top Inn'. They hurried up the walkway and onto the wooden porch which creaked under their feet. Dean tried the doorknob but it was locked, so he banged on the door instead. "Anyone in there?" he shouted.

"Dean, stop! This is an Inn, people might be asleep!" Sam said, grabbing onto his arm to stop the loud noise.

"That's the idea Sam, if they're awake they can let us in." Dean said, grinning. He turned back to the door and resumed pounding on it, "Helloo!! Rise and shine, people!"

"Dean!"

"What?" he asked innocently. Inside the Inn a light went on and the door opened to reveal an old woman wearing an old tattered nightgown. Her hair was gray and pulled straight back into a tight bun at the base of her neck. "Hello boys." she said kindly. "Please, come in out of the rain." she stepped out of the way and they walked into the entrance hall.

Sam looked around and realized that, despite being in the middle of nowhere, this hotel wasn't all that bad. The room was well lit with elegant crystal lamps on wooden stands and there was a large staircase in the back that led straight up to the other floors. The carpet was a rich cream color, and the walls were papered with a floral pattern and covered with old paintings. The old woman shut and locked the front door and then turned to face them. "Hello, dearies. I'm so sorry I couldn't get to the door sooner, but I was sleeping and wasn't expecting anyone. My name is Mrs. Winters, and I am the owner of this Inn. What can I do for you two?"

Sam smiled at her. "Actually, our car got a flat tire near here and we need a room for the night."

The woman frowned. "Oh. I'm so sorry young man, but the Inn is totally full tonight. You see, there's a hunting competition a few miles from here tomorrow morning—"

"Look, we need a place to stay for the night, and I'm not going back out there in this storm, it's pissing buckets out there." Dean said.

"What my brother means," Sam interjected quickly, "Is that we'd greatly appreciate anything you could do to accommodate us."

"Wellll…" the woman said slowly, "There is one room…but we never let anyone stay in it, because of what happened before."

"What do you mean?" Sam questioned her. "What happened?"

Mrs. Winters paused, deep in thought. Then she sighed and shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing happened. It was a long time ago, anyway. I'm sure it's perfectly safe now to use the room." Her voice trailed off and she looked away. Sam stared at her, confused.

"Sounds perfect." Dean said, oblivious to the woman's discomfort. "Just give us the key and room number and we'll be perfectly happy and you can go back to bed."

Mrs. Winters nodded slowly, and walked over to the front desk. She pulled a tarnished old fashioned key out and sat it down in front of them. "Room 37." she said, in a hushed voice. "Third floor."

"Thank you." Sam said, and took the key.

Dean looked at him. "Sam, why don't you go ahead up to the room while I pay the kind woman."

"Okay." Sam said, and turned to leave.

"Wait!" the woman yelled suddenly and grabbed his wrist. Sam turned around and stared at her. "Be careful." she whispered, her eyes sad and full of fear. "Be careful."

It'll get better after this chapter, I promise! I kinda had to get it started first.

This is my first fanfic, so reviews are greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Deep in thought, Sam walked up the two flights of stairs until he reached the third floor. What had the old woman meant? She had looked so worried, so upset…over what? A room? "Strange lady." he muttered to himself as he started walking down the hall looking at the room numbers. He stopped when he found the one he was looking for. Room 37. The wood on the door was very old and chipping away, and the room number, once written in gold paint, was barely discernable. Sam looked around at the other doors, all newly stained and in prime condition, their numbers engraved on metal plates that were all nailed neatly in the center of each door. "O-kay then…this is strange." Sam said. He hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged and shoved the antique key into the lock. It turned easily, and he heard a faint click as the door unlocked. Pocketing the key, Sam opened the door and looked into the room.

It was pitch black. He blindly reached along the wall to the left of the door until he found what he was looking for. Sam flicked the switch and a crystal ceiling light in the center of the room turned on and illuminated the room. To his right there was a wooden rocking chair with a faded red cushion and a large antique dresser made of cherry wood. On the other side of the room was a king sized bed covered with a floral bedspread and fluffy pillows, with an elegant canopy overhead. The ceiling reached a height several feet above Sam's head, and the walls, covered in a pleasant paper of little pink roses, were covered with old fashioned paintings. There were two closed doors next to the dresser that Sam assumed were probably a closet and a bathroom.

Sam shut the door behind him and walked into the middle of the room and then over to the dresser. It was covered with old fashioned jewelry, hairclips, and an ivory hairbrush. He ran his finger along the wood's surface and found that it was covered with an inch of dust. This was just too weird…it was as though someone had personally lived in this room many years ago and no one had used it since. He glanced at his soaking wet appearance in the mirror above the dresser and decided to take a nice long shower before Dean came up and used all the hot water.

Meanwhile, Dean had finished paying Mrs. Winters and was on the third floor. He walked slowly down the hall until he reached room 37. Dean tried the doorknob and found it locked, so he knocked softly on the door. "Open up Sam." he said, and then waited. Nothing happened, so he knocked a little louder. "Sam? You in there? Come on man, open the door." Still nothing. "Sam. Seriously. I'm wet and I'm tired and you _so_ don't want to piss me off right now." he listened for any sound to let him know Sam was going to open the door, but the Inn was totally silent. Dean shook his head in exasperation and then shut his eyes and ran a hand over his face. After a few moments he opened his eyes and looked back at the door. "Sam—" he stopped, and his eyes widened in shock.

The door was gone.

Dean froze, startled, and took a giant step back from the wall where the door had just been. "What the hell?!" he said loudly in disbelief. He looked to his left and saw Room 36, and on his right was Room 38.

Room 37 was gone without a trace. Dean stood there for a moment and then reached forward to touch the place on the wall where the door had been. The wall was smooth and covered with the same floral wallpaper that covered the entire hall. It was as though room 37 had never existed. "What the hell!" Dean said again, at a loss for words. Suddenly, he realized something. His brother had been in that room. If the room was gone, where was Sam?

Trying not to panic, Dean got out his cell phone and called Sam's number. He heard the dial tone once, and then there was a beep and a woman's recorded voice said, _ "I'm sorry_, _the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please hang up and try again later."_ Dean ended the call and tried again, with the same result. "Damn it!"

His panic growing, Dean looked once more at the wall where the door had been and then turned and walked swiftly back down the stairs to the front desk. Mrs. Winters was still sitting there doing some kind of paper work. She looked up as he approached. "Is anything the matter, young man?"

Dean stared at her. "The room." he said simply. "Is gone."

The old woman froze. "What?" she said, her eyes wide.

"Room 37. It's gone. I was standing there in front of the door, and it just disappeared!" Dean said loudly.

Mrs. Winters started shaking. "Oh no…oh God no." she whispered, frightened.

Dean blinked. "Wait…you believe me? You believe that the door disappeared?"

She didn't seem to hear him. "No…no, please no, not again…" she whispered, staring straight ahead at nothing.

"Not again?" Dean said quickly. "What do you mean not again?! Has this happened before?!" the woman stared at him for a moment, and then started crying. "Listen, lady, tell me what's going on here because my little brother was in that room and I need to know what to do!"

The old lady looked at him. "I'm sorry." she said amidst sobs, "I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have let your brother go into that room, not after everything that's happened! But it was so long ago, so many years and I just wanted to forget about it! I just wanted to forget!"

"Forget what? What the hell happened in that room?!" Dean demanded loudly.

"Things." the woman muttered. "Terrible things…" she looked him in the eye. "That room…that room is evil!"


	3. Chapter 3

Finished with his relaxing shower, Sam turned off the water and then stepped out of the shower onto the cold tile floor of the bathroom. He looked at his wet clothes regretfully, knowing that he would have to put them back on because all of his dry clothes were still a mile down the road in the Impala. When he was dressed, Sam walked out of the bathroom and said, "Your turn, Dean." He looked around the room, and realized that Dean wasn't there. "Huh…" Sam said thoughtfully. "Wonder what's taking him so long…" he shrugged and then lied down on the bed, sighing happily. "That's better." he looked at the digital alarm clock on the bed stand, but it wasn't showing a time and seemed to be broken. Sam let his eyes close and felt himself sink deeper into the comfortable mattress.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, a loud slamming noise from the other side of the room jerked him awake. He opened his eyes and sat up quickly, and when he did he noticed that the bathroom door had closed. Sam quickly assumed that his brother had walked in, seen him asleep, and went quietly to the bathroom. "Hey Dean," Sam called to him, "What took you so long? I was starting to think that you'd ditched me for Mrs. Winters." He listened for Dean to make his trademark biting comeback, but there was only silence. After a few moments he heard the shower turn on.

Sam laid back down in bed and rolled over onto his side. He stayed in that position for several minutes and was almost asleep when he heard something else.

Sam bolted upright in bed and stared toward the bathroom door. Despite the noise of the shower's running water he could hear the sound of a man sobbing. Completely awake and concerned for his brother, Sam quietly walked over to the bathroom door.

"Dean?" he said hesitantly. The sobs continued, louder and more broken than before. "Dean, what is it? What's wrong?" he asked softly. There was still no response.

Dean…was crying? _Dean?_ How could that be possible? Dean never cried, especially not when his little brother was around. "Dean, I'm coming in." Sam said firmly, determined to comfort him. He reached toward the doorknob and slowly opened the door.

The bathroom was clouded with hot steam. All the mirrors were fogged up and it was difficult to see anything. In addition to the shower, the sink was also overflowing with steaming hot water and the entire bathroom floor was covered with an inch of scalding water. He could just make out the silhouette of a man sitting against the wall with his head in his hands on the far side of the bathroom. "Dean?" he whispered.

At the sound of his voice the man's head jerked up and stared at him.

It wasn't Dean.

Sam gave a gasp of surprise and jumped backward. The man just stared at him. "…help me. Please." he whispered brokenly.

"Who are you and what the heck are you doing in my room?!" Sam yelled.

"I want out." the man said. "Please…please help me get out!" he broke into a new fit of sobs. "I just want out!" he screamed at the top of his voice, his head dropping back into his hands.

Sam stepped forward into the water covering the tile floor until he was right in front of the sobbing man. "Hey, it's all right." he said calmly. "It's going to be okay. Why don't you just come downstairs with me and we'll sort this whole thing out together?"

The man stopped sobbing and slowly raised his head.

Sam froze.

The man's face was completely covered with deep bloody gashes and angry purple bruises. His nose was broken and most of his teeth were missing. He stared up at Sam with bloodshot, wild blue eyes that were bleeding from the corners. As Sam watched in horror the man stood up, revealing bloody gashes all over his torso, arms, and neck.

"What happened to you?" Sam gasped. "I need to get you to a hospital!" he reached out to grab the man's arm and lead him downstairs but the man stepped back away from him and laughed. The laugh seemed to bounce off the walls of the small room and echoed in Sam's head. "Why are you laughing, this is serious!" Sam said angrily.

The man just shook his head. "You can't help me, kid." he said. "No one can. It's too late for me…just like it's too late for you."

Sam stared at him. "What?!" Suddenly, there was a deafening cracking sound from outside the bathroom. Sam jumped and whirled around, but from where he was standing he couldn't see what had made the noise. "What the hell was that?" he whispered. He turned back around to tell the man to stay there for a moment, but—he had disappeared.

Sam looked all around, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Both the shower and sink taps had turned off, the steam had all vanished without a trace, and the floor was completely dry...all in less than a second. "What…what…that's…oh wow." Sam muttered. "I'm losing my mind." he shut his eyes, only to snap them open a second later when the loud cracking sound echoed through the room for a second time.

Cautiously, Sam walked out of the bathroom and into the main room.

**Meanwhile…**

"The room is evil?" Dean said in disbelief, repeating Mrs. Winter's exact words, "And somehow this fact slipped your mind when you willingly gave us the key??"

"I'm sorry." Mrs. Winters whimpered, "I'm so, so sorry!"

Dean's eyes flicked upward in annoyance. He didn't have time for this, not when Sam was in trouble. "Look, I need you to stop crying and calm down right now, all right?" he said loudly. "My brother is missing and I have to find him before something bad happens, and in order to do that I need you to tell me anything and everything you know about that room! Can you do that?"

The old woman wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and nodded. "Yes."

"Good." Dean said. "Begin."

Mrs. Winters shakily took a deep breath. "My family has owned this Inn for over 200 years. It was built by my Great-Great Grandfather in the late1700's. He designed it so that the first two floors contained guest rooms and the third floor contained bedrooms to accommodate his family and their servants." she paused, remembering. "What is now Room 37 was then the master bedroom, occupied by he and his lovely wife Rebecca."

"Let me guess," Dean interrupted, "Rebecca tragically died in that room and now her spirit haunts it."

Mrs. Winters looked at him sadly. "No. Rebecca didn't die. She went insane."

"Oh great! That's even better!" Dean said sarcastically.

"She and her husband had eight children, all ranging from ages 4 to 16…they were a happy family." she paused. "One morning, while her husband was out hunting, Rebecca brought all eight of her children into that room—and killed them."

"All eight of them? By herself??" Dean asked in disbelief.

"All eight of them." she confirmed. "She stabbed them all multiple times and they slowly bled to death on the floor."

"Why didn't the servants stop her?!" Dean demanded, "They couldn't have all been deaf, surely they heard the children screaming."

"Yeah, that's exactly what her husband said when he returned home and found out what had happened." Mrs. Winters looked up at Dean. "Do you want to know what the servants' excuse was? They claimed that they could hear the children's screams and cries for help—but they couldn't get to them."

"The room was gone." Dean said, making the connection. The old woman nodded and then continued, "But no one believed them, because by the time he returned the room was back, the children were all lying dead on the floor…and Rebecca was gone."

"She was gone? What, did she run away?"

"She just disappeared. No one ever saw her again."

Dean's eyebrows shot up and he processed the information. "Damn it…this is bad."

"Oh, it gets worse." she said sadly.

"You've got to be kidding me! How could it get worse? Sam's trapped in an evil room that drives people insane and then eats them!"

"That's a crude way of putting it…" she said, "But that's not entirely accurate, I don't have any solid proof of what the room really does to people…look, we're short on time, so I'll just give you the factual statistics." she took a deep breath. "In addition to Rebecca and her children, twenty-two other people have either died or vanished without a trace in Room 37 over the years…including my little sister Elizabeth." her face darkened as she recalled the memory.

"Twenty-two people?! Oh, this is going to be one of those days, isn't it?" he sank down into an armchair that was sitting beside him and then looked up at her. "So what happened to your sister?"

The old woman signed heavily. "I was just 14 years old at the time…Elizabeth was only eight. One day in the summer it rained, and we decided to play hide and seek. She begged me to let her hide first so that she could try out a new hiding spot she had found…she was so excited…" she wiped some tears out of her eyes, "She told me that I'd _never_ find her…and I never did." a sob escaped her, and she looked away. "I searched for ten whole minutes and was about to give up when she started screaming. I followed the sound of it to Room 37—"

"The brat hid in there..." Dean said tactlessly, "Because you were scared of it and she thought you wouldn't look for her there…"

"Let me finish." she said. "I followed her scream to where Room 37 _should_ have been. I could hear her screams through the wall, but the door was gone—I couldn't get to her…she screamed and screamed for me to help her, but I couldn't. When the door finally did reappear later that day, Elizabeth was gone. She had vanished like all the others."

Dean stood back up and stared at her. "Shit…_shit_, this is _so _not good…" he looked at Mrs. Winters. "One more question," he said quickly, "What else was Elizabeth screaming when she was trapped in the room? Did she say anything that might clue us into what the hell Sam might be up against in there?"

Mrs. Winters looked at him and shrugged. "She wasn't making much sense…but she did keep yelling about the wall."

"The wall?"

She nodded. "Yes. She said the wall was bleeding…"

**Hope you like it so far! Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Many thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**WARNING: This chapter contains spoilers for S2!!**

"Okay." Dean said, pacing back and forth as he thought. "We need a plan and we need it yesterday, and in order for the plan to be even slightly effective, I need to go to my car."

Mrs. Winters blinked at him. "What, you're running away and leaving your brother—"

"Of course I'm not leaving Sam!" Dean said exasperatedly. "I have to get all my—uh—equipment—out of the trunk!"

"Equipment? What kind of equipment?"

Dean decided to cut to the chase. "Look, lady, Sam and I hunt demons, okay?"

"You hunt demons?! Have you lost your mind?!"

"Hey, don't you dare come down on me! You're the one with an evil room that eats people! You have no room to talk!"

"That's different—I mean—oh come on, that's completely different, young man! Demons don't even exist!" she said.

"Yeah, okay, I'll keep that in mind the next time one tries to kill me." Dean said. "Now while I go to my car I want you to get everyone out of this building—"

"I can't just evacuate the Inn!"

Dean stared at her. "I am prepared to do anything—_anything_—to get Sam safely out of that room—including breaking down the wall! Do you really want everyone here to witness that? Because they're going to all want to know why some guy is hacking down the wall with a chainsaw, they're not exactly going to sleep right through it!"

"You're going to use a chainsaw on my wall??"

"I would if I had one!" Dean said firmly.

Mrs. Winters looked into his eyes and saw his determination, and knew that he was telling the truth. "I'll pull the fire alarm." she said quickly.

"Okay." Dean said. "But before I go to my car I'm going to go back upstairs and see if I can get Sam to hear me through the wall. Maybe it'll work this time."

**Meanwhile…**

Sam cautiously walked into the bedroom and looked around—nothing was out of place that could have caused the strange noise. He stood motionless for several seconds listening to the sound of his own panicked breathing, but nothing happened. "I need to get more sleep…" he muttered, turning toward the bed. "What's taking Dean so long, anyway?"

The sound occurred again; a cracking, grinding noise so intense that it made Sam think that the room was collapsing. He whirled around to face the direction of the noise.

It was coming from behind the large dresser.

Without stopping to think, Sam took several long strides up to the dresser, grabbed hold of it, and tried to slide it back away from the wall. It wouldn't move at all, not even an inch. It was as though the dresser was nailed to the floor. He gave up and tried to peek behind it instead. There was only about half an inch of space behind the dresser, and it was pitch black so he couldn't see anything. He leaned forward against the wall to get a closer look.

Without a warning the dresser suddenly jerked backward five feet on its own and came to rest with a thud in the middle of the room.

Sam jumped back and stared over at it. "Okay," he said, trying to think logically. "Furniture doesn't move by itself…so that means there has to be a poltergeist in here. I'll just go find Dean and—" he froze mid-sentence and stared in shock at the wall that the dresser had previously hidden from view.

The wall was charred black like it had been burned, and was covered in a spider web of deep cracks from the floor to the ceiling. It was also moving, pulsating in and out in a rhythmic pattern—_like it was alive_.

As Sam stared in shock at the sickening sight he noticed that some kind of liquid was dripping out of the cracks and landing in a puddle on the floor. He reached out and touched the wall, only to pull his hand back instantly with a cry of pained surprise. It had been soft and squishy—and he was pretty sure it had just badly burned his hand. "Damn it!" he yelled angrily, cradling his hand. He looked at his fingers, which were wet with whatever liquid was coming out of the wall. It was dark red, sticky, and smelled like iron. "Blood…" he whispered. "There's blood coming out of the wall." he ran his other hand through his hair. "Definitely not a poltergeist, then...and I have no idea what it is, but it's definitely time to go!" he ran over to the door and discovered that it had somehow become locked. He got out the key and shoved it into the lock, but before he could twist it the key burst into flames. Cursing, Sam pulled his hand back and then looked for something to put out the fire. He walked toward the bathroom to get some water, but the door slammed shut before he could get to it. Well, there went that idea.

"So I'll get out through the widow." he said, and ran over to it. He pulled back the curtains and cursed.

A brick wall had replaced the glass panes of the window. He couldn't get out. "What the heck is going on?!" he yelled.

"Sam? Sam can you hear me?" a voice called from outside the door. Dean.

"Dean?" Sam yelled back, running back over to the door. "Dean, open the door!"

"Sam! Thank God!" Dean said, glad that his brother was alive. "Listen Sammy, the room is evil!"

"Yeah, Dean, I know! I can see that!" Sam said, looking around. "Dean, I can't open the door from in here, it's stuck!"

"What about the window?"

"Somehow the glass got replaced by a brick wall! I—I don't know how. There's some freaky stuff going on in here, Dean. Is there any way you can get the door open? Maybe a crowbar or something?" he asked hopefully.

"Sam, there is absolutely no way that I could possibly open the door." Dean said, the frustration clearly evident in his voice.

"Why not? What's wrong?"

"The door is gone, Sam. There is no door on my side!"

Sam took a deep breath. "Oh—this is bad."

"No, really?" Dean snapped. "Hey, at least I can talk to you now, when I tried before the damn room didn't even let you hear me!"

"I wondered what was taking you so long." Sam muttered, feeling stupid for not having realized something was wrong earlier. "Well, since I might not be able to hear you for long, did you find anything out about this room that might be helpful?"

Dean laughed. "Oh, I found stuff out, but I assure you none of it is helpful!"

"Humor me, alright?"

"Well, Mrs. Winters told me that over 22 people have either gone missing or died horrible deaths in there all in a time span of about 200 years. There's this pattern where the people that are stuck inside the room can be heard by people outside the room—"

"Like right now?"

"Yes."

"And could the people outside the room ever do anything to help?" Sam asked. There was a long pause. "Dean?" Sam prompted.

"…No." Dean said finally. "No, they couldn't, because damn door disappears!"

Suddenly the loud, grinding and cracking sound filled the room once more. Sam turned to look and watched as the cracks expanded and got longer, filling up a greater area of the wall. The wall was pulsating faster now, and the once slow drip of blood had escalated to a steady pour.

He was suddenly aware that Dean was frantically yelling his name. "I'm okay, Dean." he said quickly. "I'm still here."

"What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!" Dean yelled in relief.

"Didn't you hear it?" Sam asked.

"Hear what?"

"The loud cracking and grinding sound. You didn't hear it?"

"No! I didn't hear anything! What's going on over there, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "I—I have absolutely no idea. The wall—"

"—is bleeding?" Dean finished for him.

"Yeah, among other things…how did you know?"

Dean cursed loudly. "I just do, alright, I don't have time to explain how! Listen to me Sam, _don't_ go near the wall! I'm going to run to the car and look for something that'll get you out of this, okay?"

Sam looked at the burned, bleeding, and obviously living wall. "Dean, I'm pretty sure that nothing in the Impala is going to be of any use against this…I mean, face it, we don't even have any real idea what we're up against! And even if we did there's no way for you to get to me."

"I'll get in there!"

"And how are you planning to accomplish that?"

"I don't know—I'll find a chainsaw or something and break the wall down—something! There has to be something I can do."

"Dean—"

"No, Sam! Don't you dare start! I'm going to get you out!"

"Yeah." Sam said softly, remembering all the times Dean had kept him safe—and the one time he hadn't been able to. "I know you're going to do everything you can to do just that, but some things…some things are just beyond your control, Dean."

"No, Sam—"

"_Yes_, Dean!" Sam snapped, "Some things are beyond your damn control! When are you going to realize that?!"

Dean sighed, realizing what Sam was getting to. "Probably never…and can we not talk about this now?"

"Talk about what? My death and you making a deal to bring me back? Oh yeah, it's only been four months out of a year since then and we haven't talked about it yet, so why start now, right? We've still got eight more months."

"Sammy—"

"How could you make that deal?!" Sam yelled furiously, his current situation completely forgotten. "How, Dean?? You knew firsthand how I would feel because Dad made the same deal for you, but you did it anyway, didn't you?! Wasn't it you who said 'what's dead should stay dead'?! Damn it, Dean!"

"Sam, can we please talk about this some other time?" Dean said. "Like maybe when you're not in danger?"

"My death was beyond your control." Sam said, ignoring him. "You—you couldn't save me…and you just couldn't accept that, could you?"

"Sam, please just stop—"

"You couldn't live without me." Sam said quietly, all of his anger gone. "And if you couldn't live without me, how the hell am I supposed to live without you?"

Dean didn't have an answer. How could he even respond to a speech like that?

Sam sighed, realizing that now probably wasn't the best time for this talk. "Dean…I'm sorry—" he started to say, and then stopped as he happened to glance over at the wall. It had stopped moving and the blood wasn't dripping anymore. The entire room was totally silent...like the calm before a storm. "Dean, something's wrong." he said urgently.

"What?"

Before Sam could respond a force of some kind flung him into the air like a rag doll. He slammed into the wall on the opposite side of the room and was knocked unconscious—right in the pool of blood under the widening black space on the wall.

**Good? Bad? Tell me what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Sam sighed, realizing that now probably wasn't the best time for this talk. "Dean…I'm sorry—" he started to say, and then stopped as he happened to glance over at the wall. It had stopped moving and the blood wasn't dripping anymore. The entire room was totally silent...like the calm before a storm. "Dean, something's wrong." he said urgently._

"_What?"_

_Before Sam could respond a force of some kind flung him into the air like a rag doll. He slammed into the wall on the opposite side of the room and was knocked unconscious—right in the pool of blood under the widening black space on the wall._

**Several minutes later…**

"Sam!" Dean yelled for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Sammy! What's happening? Answer me, Sam!"

No answer.

"Damn it!" he growled and slammed his fist off the wall. He needed a new plan.

At that moment the fire alarm went off, its painfully loud siren mirroring Dean's panic to reach his brother. Doors all around him opened and people stepped out into the hallway in confusion. A middle aged man walked over to Dean, "Hey man, what's going on?"

"There's a fire in the basement!" Dean yelled loudly to him over the alarm. "Get everyone out of here!"

The man nodded and then turned around and started shouting warnings to people and knocking on doors that were still closed to get everyone up.

As people proceeded to run downstairs, Dean stayed exactly where he was, staring blankly at the wall. Sam had been right, of course; there really was nothing he could do. He had no idea what they were fighting and no time or resources to figure it out. He had failed. _Again._

**Meanwhile…**

Drip

Drip

Drip

Sam groaned. His eyes fluttered but remained closed. What was going on? He struggled to remember where he was but his head was spinning and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Drip

_What was that?_ Something was dripping all over him. He groaned again, and realized that he was lying in something hot and sticky. Hot and sticky? And then he remembered where he was. His eyes snapped open and focused on the charred, pulsating wall above him…it had expanded, and now covered the entire room.

Drip

Drip

Drip

Blood was dripping…off the ceiling, off the wall—all over every inch of his body. He was lying in a pool of it.

Sam climbed shakily to his feet, one hand holding onto his head as though that would keep the world from spinning. Thoughts all jumbled together in his mind. _Probably have a concussion...who knows how long I've been out…Dean's probably worried sick…_ "De—?" he murmured, trying not to pass out again. He licked his lips and tried again, "Dean?"

No answer. Sam leaned a hand against the wall to steady himself for a few seconds but it instantly burned his skin. He let go with a gasp of pain.

Something grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

Sam's eyes widened and he turned around. An ugly, white, bloodstained hand was gripping onto his arm, its' nails cutting deep into his flesh.

The hand was coming out of the wall.

Shocked, Sam grabbed onto it and tried to force it to let go, but it had a death grip on him and wouldn't budge. He was trapped. "Dean?!" he yelled loudly, completely awake now. "Dean!"

A few seconds of silence went by and then, "Sam!" he heard Dean yell back.

"I'm having serious problems in here, Dean!" he shouted, continuing to try to pry the hand open and failing.

"What? What's going on? I've been yelling for you for the last five minutes!"

"I was unconscious, okay?" Sam said. He opened his mouth to say more, but the hand suddenly jerked back toward the wall, dragging Sam with it. "Oh hell—" he whispered as he realized what was happening. His eyes frantically searched for something to grab onto. "Dean, something's pulling me into the wall!"

"What?? What does it look like?!"

Sam managed to grab onto the windowsill with his free hand, "I don't know! All I can see is its' hand, but I'm guessing it's not friendly!" The hand pulled harder, and Sam lost his momentary grip on the ledge. "Dean!" he shouted helplessly as the hand tugged harder.

Sam's feet didn't have much traction on the bloody floor, and he slipped. Seeming to sense his disadvantage, the thing dragged him into the wall up to his elbow. Sam screamed in agony.

It felt like his arm was on fire—like he was being burned alive.

**Sorry this chapter was a little short, but I had to end it there for the next chapter to work out the way I want it to!**


	6. Chapter 6

"_Dean, something's pulling me into the wall!"_

"_What?? What does it look like?!"_

_Sam managed to grab onto the windowsill with his free hand, "I don't know! All I can see is its' hand, but I'm guessing it's not friendly!" The hand pulled harder, and Sam lost his momentary grip on the ledge. "Dean!" he shouted helplessly as the hand tugged harder._

_Sam's feet didn't have much traction on the bloody floor, and he slipped. Seeming to sense his disadvantage, the thing dragged him into the wall up to his elbow. Sam screamed in agony._

_It felt like his arm was on fire—like he was being burned alive._

Sam struggled fiercely to pull himself free of the wall and stop the pain. It was pure agony; a burning, twisting, excruciating pain that consumed everything but the desire to make it stop.

He scrambled to find his footing on the bloody floor and failed. There was nothing for him to hold onto, nothing to save him from being dragged into the wall.

He clamped his mouth shut to bite back a scream, knowing that it wouldn't do him any good. He was all alone, he couldn't get out and no one could get in to help him, not even Dean…

"Sam!" Dean yelled frantically for what felt like the hundredth time. "Sammy?! Answer me!"

"Dean." Sam choked out. Oh God—Dean! He didn't want Dean to witness this, powerless to help—he didn't want his brother to hear him scream… "Get out of here Dean!" he yelled.

"What?!" Dean said. "No, I'm not going anywhere! You can't get rid of me that easily."

"Please just go!" Sam gasped. "Go to the Impala and see if there's anything in Dad's journal about this—"

"No Sam! I'm not leaving you alone! What's going on?"

"Nothing! Nothing's going on!" Sam lied, struggling as the thing pulled him further into the wall. The pain was unbearable; he knew he couldn't take it much longer—

"You're a horrible liar Sam! Why are you lying to me? What did you mean when you said something was pulling you into the wall?"

"Please…" Sam choked out, "Dean, please go, I don't want you to hear."

"Hear what, Sammy? What are you talking about?!"

Sam didn't answer. He couldn't, the pain was too overpowering. He wanted to black out, to die—anything to make it stop. He screamed.

Dean froze, terrified, and his blood ran cold at the sound.

Footsteps suddenly came rushing up the wooden staircase at the end of the hall. Dean turned around and watched Mrs. Winters run toward him. "I just heard someone scream! What's going on?" she demanded.

Dean stared at her, eyes wide, his breathing panicked and uneven. "I—I—I don't know." he stammered. "Sam's trapped—something's wrong—I don't know what, he won't tell me! I can't get to him, I can't—I don't know what to do!" he finished breathlessly. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"

Mrs. Winters stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't know. I don't know what to do either! I'm so sorry!"

The lights in the hallway suddenly flickered and went out, leaving the whole area pitch black. Mrs. Winters whimpered and moved closer to Dean.

Dean stared into the darkness. "Who's there??" he shouted angrily. "Why are you doing this?! What the hell do you want??"

Someone laughed close to his ear and a woman's voice whispered, "I want a lot of things, Dean Winchester…"

Dean reached out, trying to touch whatever was there, but his hand passed through empty space.

Inside the room, Sam screamed again.

"What do _you_ want, Dean?" the woman asked innocently.

"Let my brother go." Dean pleaded. "I'll do anything, just let him go."

"You think you can save him?" the voice said playfully, obviously amused, "Alright then. Go ahead and try. But you'll fail—they always fail." She laughed again, and then the lights turned back on. Dean's mouth dropped open in disbelief.

The door to Room 37 was back, right where it should have been all along. Unbelieving, Dean reached out his hand and grabbed the doorknob. Unlocked, it turned easily in his grip and he pushed the door open and stared inside.

In everything that he had been through over the years, he had never seen anything more terrifying than this. The room was a bloody mass of living, breathing tissue—and Sam was trapped, struggling and coated with blood, right in the middle of it, halfway in the wall. "Sam!" he shouted, and ran over to his brother. He grabbed Sam's free arm and forced him to look at him.

Sam stared at him in disbelief, pain visible on his face. "Dean? But—how?"

"I don't know, and it doesn't matter!" Dean said.

"Dean—it's pulling me into the wall!" Sam said, his voice breaking. "The wall—I can't take it anymore—it feels like I'm on fire!"

"Just hang on Sammy, okay? It'll be over soon." Dean said, trying to reassure himself as much as Sam. He pulled as hard as he could on Sam's arm to try to drag him back out of the wall.

Sam slipped another inch _into _the wall.

"It's too strong!" Sam said through clenched teeth. "Pull harder!"

"I'm trying!" Dean shouted. This couldn't be happening. This could _not _be happening.

"It hurts." Sam moaned brokenly.

"I'll get you out of this!" Dean said frantically. "We've been in worse situations before."

"I'm pretty sure this makes the top ten." Sam gasped. He looked up at his brother. "Dean?"

"What?" Dean grunted, still pulling with all his strength and not managing to have any success in getting Sam out.

"Thanks…for everything. You—you're the best older brother a guy could hope for…even if you are a major jerk sometimes."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. "God, Sammy, please don't talk like that." he pleaded. "You're going to be fine."

Sam slipped another inch into the wall. "Just remember that this wasn't your fault, okay Dean?"

"Damn it, Sam, don't you dare leave me like this!" Dean shouted angrily. He didn't know what to do. The thing that was pulling on Sam's other arm was obviously stronger than he was.

"I'm sorry." Sam whispered. Dean looked up at him and their eyes locked.

A second later Sam was wrenched out of Dean's grasp and disappeared into the wall.


	7. Chapter 7

_Sam slipped another inch into the wall. "Just remember that this wasn't your fault, okay Dean?"_

"_Damn it, Sam, don't you dare leave me like this!" Dean shouted angrily. He didn't know what to do. The thing that was pulling on Sam's other arm was obviously stronger than he was._

"_I'm sorry." Sam whispered. Dean looked up at him and their eyes locked._

_A second later Sam was wrenched out of Dean's grasp and disappeared into the wall._

"NO!! SAM!!" Dean screamed, refusing to accept what had just happened.

His brother was gone...

Suddenly, the blood on the floor started seeping back up the wall and into the cracks. Dean watched, unable to look away, as the entire room transformed before his eyes in under a minute. The cracks disappeared and the burned color of the walls was replaced with a cheery pattern of little pink roses. The ashes that covered the carpet rose up and rearranged themselves into a large bed, rocking chair, and other pieces of furniture throughout the room. Then everything was silent.

The room looked ordinary, completely unremarkable. Dean knew that if he told people that the room was evil and something had pulled his brother through the wall they would think he was losing his mind and send him to a mental institution.

He heard something move behind him, and when he turned he saw Mrs. Winters standing just inside the doorframe, her eyes wide, terrified. "Oh God…that was like a nightmare! A horrible nightmare! What just happened?" she whispered. "Where did he go?"

Still in shock, Dean just shook his head at her and turned to stare at the place where Sam had disappeared.

Numbly, he reached out and touched the wall. It was solid, firm.

Perfectly ordinary.

Sam was gone—and he had no idea where he was or how to get him back. He was going to need some help.

**Meanwhile…**

Sam's eyes snapped open and he sat up with a strangled yell. Breathing hard, he looked around to try to get his bearings. When he realized where he was his breath caught in his throat.

He was still in Room 37.

Everything, from the rose wallpaper to the bed he was sitting on, was exactly the same. "This is impossible…" he said. "I just left here…"

"Hey Sam, glad to see you're finally awake." a voice said cheerfully.

Sam whirled around and saw his brother sitting comfortably in the old wooden rocking chair. "Dean??"

"You were expecting someone else?" Dean said, sounding bewildered. "Who else would be in here?" he looked around. "Is there some hot chick hiding in the closet?"

Sam stared at Dean. "What's going on?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. I assume you had another vision."

"Vision?"

"When I came up here I found you lying on the floor, Sam." Dean said. "Why else would you have been unconscious on the floor?"

"I—I just got pulled through the wall." Sam stated, staring around in confusion.

"O-kay then…" Dean said, looking concerned. "Sam, are you feeling alright?"

Sam shook his head. "You're not Dean."

Dean blinked. "What?"

"I just got pulled through the wall—and Dean was trying to save me. You're not him."

"Sam, you're starting to scare me..."

"You're not Dean." Sam repeated confidently. "You're _not_."

There was a pause and then Dean smiled coldly, the smile never reaching his eyes. "You always were the smart one, huh college boy?"

Sam stared at him. "Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter." the thing said. "Believe it or not, I'm here to help you."

"Help me?!" Sam yelled angrily. "You just pulled me through a wall! It felt like I was being burned alive! How is that helping me?!"

"That was necessary to bring you here."

"What are you talking about?! I was already in room 37 when you pulled me through the wall, and now we're back in room 37! We never moved!" he paused to think and ran a hand through his hair. "Where's Dean?"

"He's not here."

"Yeah, I can see that." Sam growled. "Can you be slightly more specific?"

"He's at the Mountain Top Inn, room 37." it said. "Trying to figure out where you went."

Sam looked at him in disbelief. "You really expect me to believe that? We are in room 37 _right now_, I think we would see him if he was here."

"We're not really in room 37." it said. "Not anymore…it's complicated."

Frustrated, Sam slammed his hand down on the bed stand. "Stop playing games with me and tell me what the hell is going on!"

"Okay." the thing said simply. "You're no longer in the world of the living."

Sam's mouth fell open. "I'm—I'm dead?"

"Not exactly, but you're not alive either…you're in between."

"In between? Are you serious?"

"Room 37 isn't evil, and it doesn't kill people—it's a portal."

"A portal to where?"

It shrugged. "The destination is different for everyone. Only you can figure that out." it said.

"I don't—"

"Do you believe in second chances, Sam?" it interrupted.

Sam blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You aren't happy, Sam…face it, your life is downright miserable. That's why the room chose you. It's giving you a second chance."

"A second chance at what?"

"Is there anything you regret? _Really_ regret?" It gave him an encouraging smile. "For example, is there a moment in time that you regret so much that you would give anything to go back and change it?"

Sam laughed bitterly. "Are you kidding me? My whole life is regret…"

It nodded, and then pointed at the door. "Go ahead then—open it."

Sam looked at the door. "Why? What's on the other side of the door?"

It shrugged. "I don't know. There's no way to tell until you open it…that's how it works…that's how it's always worked."

"This has happened to other people?" Sam asked skeptically. "Other people have been dragged through the wall and brought here?"

"Oh yeah." he said. "Lots of people were given this opportunity."

"And what happened to them?"

The thing looked at him and shook his head. "That's not your place to know."

"But—"

"_No_. Forget it."

"Fine...one more question." Sam said. "What happens if I choose not to open the door?"

"I wouldn't advise doing that." it said honestly, and then paused. "Good luck Sam. I'm rooting for you." it disappeared.

Sam stood there, alone, staring at the door. "Okay," he said out loud, "This is crazy." He sat back down on the bed and shut his eyes, trying to clear his head.

Rrrrrrring

He opened his eyes and looked over at the phone sitting on the bed stand.

Rrrrrrring

Rrrrrrring

Sam shrugged, figuring that answering the call couldn't possibly make his situation any worse. He reached out, picked up the phone, and put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hi Bobby…it's Dean."

Sam instantly sat up straight and held the receiver closer to his ear. "…What??"

"Yeah, I know, it's late at night and I shouldn't be calling, but something's happened and Sam's in trouble and I have…absolutely _no idea_ what to do. I need your help."

"Dean?" Sam said, confused, "How—how did you get this number?"

There was a pause. "You gave it to me, Bobby." Dean said, slowly. "Come on man, wake up! I don't have time for this."

"Dean…this isn't Bobby," he said, "It's Sam."

"What?" Dean said in disbelief. "But—"

"Dean, it's me, okay? We don't have time to argue. And believe me, I'm just as confused as you are…" he looked around, "Scratch that, I'm _way_ more confused than you are."

"Are you okay?" Dean asked softly, sounding slightly relieved.

"Yeah." he answered, "Yeah, I'm okay…you?"

"Sam, I'm fine, I wasn't the one trapped in a room and then pulled through a wall!" Dean said tensely. "Where are you?"

"I…this is going to sound weird, Dean, but I'm still in Room 37." Sam said, "And I honestly don't know how, what with me being sucked through the wall and everything."

There was another pause.

"Let me guess," Sam said, "You're in Room 37 right now too."

"Yeah, I am." Dean said. "Sam, how can we both be in the same room at the same time and not see each other? How does that make sense?"

"Are you on your cell phone?" Sam asked.

"No, it wouldn't work in the Inn so I'm using the room phone…why does that matter?"

"The room phone in Room 37?"

"Yeah." Dean said. "Why?"

Sam shut his eyes. "Because I'm on the same phone."

"That doesn't make sense—" Dean began, but the rest of what he said was drowned out by static.

"Dean??" Sam said loudly. "Dean?!" there was a click and then nothing but the dial tone could be heard.

Sam slowly put the phone back in the receiver and looked back at the door. Heart pounding in his chest, he stood up and walked over to it. He was terrified of what might be behind it, but he knew that he wasn't going to accomplish anything hiding in the room…at least this way he might be able to find a way to get back to Dean.

Sam opened the door…

**I know, I know, another cliffhanger. I'll try to update soon…Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

"_Dean??" Sam said loudly. "Dean?!" there was a click and then nothing but the dial tone could be heard._

_Sam slowly put the phone back in the receiver and looked back at the door. Heart pounding in his chest, he stood up and walked over to it. He was terrified of what might be behind it, but he knew that he wasn't going to accomplish anything hiding in the room…at least this way he might be able to find a way to get back to Dean._

_Sam opened the door…_

…and found himself looking into room 37. Again.

Sam sighed, and rolled his eyes in frustration. "Oh, look at that," he said sarcastically, "I walked through the door and ended up back in the same spot…_that _worked really well."

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and Dean walked into the room—the real Dean, looking tired, worried, and…scared?

Sam smiled and took a step into the room. "Hey Dean, I'm back!" he said, expecting his brother to look up and sigh in relief.

Instead, Dean walked over to the bed and warily sat down in front of a laptop and began typing. There was a small stack of old looking file folders sitting next to him.

Sam blinked. "Dean? Hey, are you deaf or something?" he walked further into the room and saw that the rest of their hunting equipment was sitting on the floor. Dean had obviously gone out to the Impala while he was gone. "Dean!" he said loudly. His brother still didn't look up.

Sam walked over and stood right in front of him. "…Dean?" he said softly, waving a hand in front of his brother's face to see if he could get some kind of response.

Nothing happened.

Sam let out a shaky breath and backed up into the middle of the room. "You can't see me…can you?" he said simply.

Suddenly Dean looked up. "Did you find any other records?" he asked.

"No." a voice said before Sam could respond. He turned around and saw Mrs. Winters standing at the door. "I checked the rest of the basement but I didn't see any other files about disappearances in Room 37." She explained. "I did, however, find the old Ouija board that my sister and I used to play around with…since we're dealing with some kind of supernatural thing maybe it could be useful." she shrugged and sat it on the stand next to the door.

"Maybe." Dean said absentmindedly, staring at the computer screen. "Thanks for the files; they should get me started, anyway."

"Hello?" Sam said loudly, "Can anyone hear me?!"

"Did you find anything out yet…about how to get your brother back?" Mrs. Winters asked.

"…No." Dean said regretfully. "Not yet."

"I'm right here!" Sam shouted. He turned toward his brother. "Dean! I'm right here! Look at me, damn it!"

"Well don't worry, sweetie." The old woman said comfortingly to Dean, "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Yeah…" Dean said, typing away on the laptop.

Sam reached out to touch his brother's shoulder—and his hand passed right through him.

He jumped back, frightened, and _Dean looked up._

Mrs. Winters watched Dean glance questioningly around the room. "What is it? Did you hear something?"

Dean sighed and shook his head. "I—no. No, everything's fine, I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"I'll go make you some coffee, then. Call me if you need me." she said, and left.

Sam stood there, staring at Dean. "I went right through you…shit, that can't be good." He said, running a hand over his face. "But you felt it…" he trailed off.

Sam experimentally reached out and put his hand through Dean's shoulder again. Instantly Dean stopped typing and looked up. "Yeah." Sam said, pulling his hand back. "This is new."

"Who's there?" Dean said uncertainly, his eyes scanning the room.

"Great." Sam said sarcastically. "You think someone's here but you can't see or hear me…okay, I need a second to think." he said, and started pacing in the room. "Whatever that thing was told me that the door was a portal…so why would it bring me here?" he asked his brother, knowing that Dean couldn't hear him but needing to talk to him anyway. Suddenly he stopped pacing and looked at Dean. "Before I stepped through the door I hoped that it would help me get back to you…and it did." He shook his head in disbelief. "So it takes me where I want to go…Oh wow, this is insane…"

Dean just kept typing away, no doubt trying to find something that would help explain where Sam was...that was more that a little ironic, since he was right there. "You're not going to find anything, Dean…" Sam said. "We need to talk." His eyes suddenly fell on the Ouija board. "Maybe…" he said hesitantly. "It worked before, after all…"

He walked over to it. "Here goes…" he said, and reached out his hand toward the movable piece sitting in the center. He closed his fingers around it and felt only air. Frowning, he concentrated harder.

It moved—the movement was hardly noticeable, but it was a start. Sam looked over at Dean who was too engrossed in his work to notice. He got a firmer grip on the piece and began dragging it up and down the board, making a small scratching sound. A few minutes later, Dean finally looked up at the Ouija board. His mouth dropped open as he watched the piece move slowly back and forth across the board. "O-kay…" he said, standing up slowly. He walked cautiously over to the board and picked it up. Sam let the piece go and it stopped moving. "Right then," Dean said, "I can take a hint." he sat down on the floor and placed the board in front of him. "Who's there?" he said.

Sam sat down across from his brother and put two of his fingers on the pointer next to Dean's.

Dean stared as the piece slowly spelled out his brother's name. His eyebrows shot up. "Sam?" he said. The piece moved to yes. Dean instantly felt relieved, but then got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized what that might mean. "Are…are you—dead?" he asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

Sam shrugged, thinking back to when the thing had told him that he was neither dead or alive, but in between, and concentrated again on moving the piece.

I DON'T KNOW

Dean let out the breath he had been holding. "You don't know?" he asked in disbelief. "Sammy, how can you _not know _if you're dead or alive?!"

ITS COMPLICATED

"Why can't I see or hear you, then?" Dean asked, getting frustrated.

I DONT KNOW

"Of course not…so how did you get here?"

DOOR IS A PORTAL

"That makes no sense!" Dean said exasperatedly.

"Tell me about it…" Sam muttered. He concentrated again.

I KNOW

Dean sighed. "We need to figure this out…"

Sam paused, realizing what he had to do.

IM GOING TO DO IT AGAIN

Dean frowned. "Do what?"

GO THROUGH THE DOOR AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS

"Like hell you are!" Dean said fiercely. "You aren't going anywhere, Sam!"

HAVE TO…DON'T WANT TO BE STUCK LIKE THIS FOREVER

"You won't be! I'll figure something out!" Dean said. "Just give me a few hours."

MIGHT NOT HAVE A FEW HOURS

"You have no idea what'll happen if you go through that door…portal…whatever it is!" Dean shouted frantically.

DO YOU HAVE A BETTER IDEA

Dean shook his head and ran a hand over his face. "No." he admitted. "But that doesn't mean you have to do something stupid."

ILL BE FINE

"Sam, you don't know that for sure. Don't you dare leave! Do you hear me?! You stay here!"

Sam looked at his brother. Dean looked terrible. He knew that he was worried about him…he was always worried about him. It really wasn't fair. Why did Dean always think he was responsible for everything?

Suddenly it hit him, and Sam's eyes snapped up to rest on the door. He knew where he wanted the portal to take him. The thing had told him that he could have a second chance to change something—and he knew what he wanted to change. He looked back down and concentrated again.

TRUST ME

Dean sighed, "Sam, please…"

I HAVE TO GO…MAYBE I CAN FIX EVERYTHING

Dean continued talking to him, begging him to stay, but Sam just looked away guiltily and stood up. He had to do it, after all. He had to.

He opened the door and—

**Dun-dun-dun!**

**Author's Note: Hi everyone, thanks for reading! I want your opinion on the direction of this story. Sam is going to go back in time using the portal, so do you want him to:**

**A: Visit several of the tragic moments in his life (there are sooo many, after all) and try to fix them**

**OR**

**B: Just skip to the one moment that I have in mind and have a shorter story**

**Tell me what you think! **


	9. Author's Note

**Hi everyone! I'd like to thank all of you who reviewed and/or gave their opinion on which way the story should go. Most people seemed to choose choice B, so I will be continuing with that in mind. **

**I'm really sorry that I haven't updated, but I've been extremely busy lately. I also wanted to let you know that I won't be able to update for at least a week (possibly more) because I'm going on vacation and I don't know when I'll be near a computer with the Internet. **

**Soooo…the story will continue when I get back, and it'll be good, **_**I promise**_**, but until then you'll just have to wait in suspense. Sorry!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Well I'm back, so I should be updating frequently from now on. Enjoy!**

_Suddenly it hit him, and Sam's eyes snapped up to rest on the door. He knew where he wanted the portal to take him. The thing had told him that he could have a second chance to change something—and he knew what he wanted to change. He looked back down and concentrated again._

_TRUST ME_

_Dean sighed, "Sam, please…"_

_I HAVE TO GO…MAYBE I CAN FIX EVERYTHING_

_Dean continued talking to him, begging him to stay, but Sam just looked away guiltily and stood up. He had to do it, after all. He had to._

_He opened the door and—_

Dean stood up angrily, cursing the stubbornness of his brother and his own inability to help him. He walked back over to the bed and began leafing through the files again. Faces stared up at him from the pages of old yellowing newspaper clippings, all either missing or brutally killed—all victims of the room. He kept searching, hoping to see something—anything—he might have missed that would help Sam get out of this mess.

Mrs. Winters walked into the room and handed him a steaming cup of coffee. "Thanks." Dean said warily. He lifted the cup to his lips and cautiously took a sip of the scalding liquid.

"Sure thing, hon…you're going to need it."

"Yeah." Dean agreed, running a hand over his face. He took another sip of coffee and then sat the steaming mug down on the nightstand, prepared to continue searching.

"Dean?" Mrs. Winters said kindly.

"What?" he said, not bothering to look up.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" he asked, opening another file.

"Oh Dean…" she said, and then laughed coldly.

Dean blinked and then looked quizzically up at her.

She smiled. "You're not ready, are you?"

He stared at her, completely confused. "What are you talking about?"

The lights in the room flickered wildly and then went out completely, leaving them in the dark. "What the hell?" he muttered, standing up. "Did you know this was going to happen?"

Suddenly there was a flash of white light. Dean gasped in surprise and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Dean?" a man's voice said apprehensively. "Dean, what is it?"

Dean's eyes snapped open and focused on the man standing beside him. "…Bobby?" he said in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Bobby's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious? You called me and asked for my help to find Sam, remember?"

Dean's breath caught in his throat. It couldn't be…

He looked around and saw that they weren't in the room, they were standing outside.

In a forest.

And suddenly he knew exactly where he was—and when. Without another word, Dean took off running, his heart pounding in his chest.

**Meanwhile…**

Sam was momentarily blinded by the light on the other side of the door—the portal. He took a shaky breath, his hand still resting on the doorknob, suddenly unsure of what he was doing. He tightly shut his eyes and then stepped over the threshold.

WHAM

Something connected powerfully with the side of his head and, completely disoriented, he fell to the ground. The scent of dirt and grass hit his nostrils—he was outside.

_Outside…_

Sam opened his eyes just in time to see Jake swinging a knife toward his head. With a cry, Sam rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet. He barely had time to take a breath before Jake lunged at him again, this time managing to slice a deep gash across his upper left arm. "Jake, stop!" he yelled desperately, fully aware that his words were futile.

Jake wasn't going to stop until he was dead.

Just like last time.

As Jake moved to strike again Sam jumped aside and grabbed his wrist with both hands, trying to wrench the knife out of his strong grasp.

Jake snarled angrily and tightened his grip on the weapon. "You can't beat me, Sam!" he spat. "Only one of us is walking out of here tonight, and it's gonna be me! You don't have the guts to kill me anyway!"

Sam concentrated hard, slowly managing to point the knife blade at Jake. "I've done it before, actually." He said, eyes narrowed.

Jake laughed, a hollow, empty sound lacking all humor. "Quit fighting this. I promise your death will be quick—you'll barely even feel it."

"Yeah," Sam said, memories running through his head like wildfire, "I'd probably be dead before I hit the ground—but I'm not dying this time!" hands shaking, he inched the knife closer and closer to Jake's throat. Jake kicked Sam frantically, but couldn't manage to throw him off.

Sam was stronger, and he wasn't letting go, he couldn't…not now. He was _so close_, all he had to do was kill Jake and it would all be over. His senses seemed to be heightened; he could hear Jake's frantic breathing, see the beads of sweat trickling down his face.

This was it.

The moment.

He moved the blade forward, forcing it against Jake's neck, and saw red droplets of blood seep out of the small cut…

FLASH

A bright light engulfed him without warning, blinding him. Startled, Sam loosened his hold on Jake's arm and felt it slip through his fingers like a snake. Something slammed into his chest, knocking him back a step.

"_No!"_ Someone screamed wildly behind him.

The light vanished and Sam saw Jake standing right in front of him, staring wide eyed at something over his shoulder.

A gun shot rang out.

The bullet lodged itself in Jake's forehead, killing him instantly. As Sam stared the body seemed to hang suspended in the air, and then it crumpled unceremoniously to the ground.

Dean dropped his gun and ran forward towards Sam, knowing what had happened but refusing to accept it.

_Not again…_

He stopped a couple of steps away from his brother and hesitated, too scared of what he might see to get any closer.

Sam's back was to him. He watched, unable to look away, as Sam raised a hand to his chest, looked at it, and then let it drop back to his side.

His fingers were covered in blood.

Dean stared at the blood, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. It was as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of his lungs. "No." he breathed, reaching out a trembling hand and gripping his brother's shoulder.

At the sound of his voice Sam tilted his head to the side and looked down at the hand resting on his shoulder. "Dean." he whispered. "I…I…" he stopped, seemingly at a loss for words, and turned around.

The knife blade was lodged into Sam's chest up to the hilt, crimson blood streaming from the wound.

**Uh-oh! Should be a nice angsty chapter coming soon!**


	11. Chapter 11

_Dean stared at the blood, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. It was as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of his lungs. "No." he breathed, reaching out a trembling hand and gripping his brother's shoulder._

_At the sound of his voice Sam tilted his head to the side and looked down at the hand resting on his shoulder. "Dean." he whispered. "I…I…" he stopped, seemingly at a loss for words, and turned around._

_The knife blade was lodged into Sam's chest up to the hilt, crimson blood streaming from the wound._

"No…no…" Dean repeated softly, shaking his head, as though denying what had happened would make his brother okay. "No no no! Sam, _no_!"

"Dean." Sam said. He opened his mouth to say more but a wave of dizziness hit him and he dropped to his knees in the dirt. In a second Dean was kneeling on the ground in front of him. He grabbed Sam's shoulders and gently helped him lie down on his back.

"Dean?!" Bobby's voice yelled from the tree-line. "Dean! What happened?"

Dean looked around and saw Bobby running toward them. "Bobby, Sam's hurt! Call an ambulance!" He saw Bobby pull out his phone and then turned his attention back to his brother, whose eyes were half closed. "Sam! Sam, look at me." He said firmly. Sam's eyes snapped open and locked on Dean's. "I need you to stay awake, alright?"

"Okay." Sam said weakly.

Dean took a deep breath and then looked down at Sam's wound. There was blood everywhere, it had soaked through Sam's shirt and was pooling beneath him on the ground. _So much blood…_His hands shook as they hovered over the wound. "Oh God, Sam…" he whispered, and his voice cracked. "I don't know what to do."

Sam looked up at him. "Don't look so depressed…It's not…that bad." he choked out. "I didn't even feel it."

"It's called shock, Sam!" Dean said loudly, running a hand through his hair. "You're in shock!"

"Dean, my phone's not working, there's no service!" Bobby said anxiously, running over to them. He gazed down at Sam's wound and his face paled. "I'm going to run to the car and find help nearby. Try to stop the bleeding while I'm gone."

"Shouldn't we get him to the Impala and drive to a hospital?" Dean demanded.

"The car's too far away, we'd just make it worse by moving him there." Bobby said quickly, turning to leave. "Just stay here and try to stop the bleeding."

Dean looked back at Sam as Bobby ran off. "It's going to be okay, Sam. You're going to be fine." he rambled, trying to convince himself just as much as his brother.

"Take it out." Sam whispered.

Dean froze. He looked down at the knife and shook his head. "I—no. That would just cause the bleeding to increase, make it worse—"

"Dean, _please._ You can't stop…the bleeding if there's a knife…in my chest…take it out."

Dean gritted his teeth and then reached down and gently pulled the knife out of Sam's chest. As soon as he was done more blood began pouring from the gash. Dean threw the knife aside and then quickly took off his shirt and pressed it to the wound.

Sam smiled faintly. "Always jump at the chance…to take your shirt off…huh Dean?"

Something in between a laugh and a sob escaped Dean's lips, and he shut his eyes briefly as he crouched over his brother trying to stop the blood. When he opened his eyes again they were glistening with tears. "I can't do this again, Sammy. I can't."

"Dean—"

"I can't watch you die again! Not again! Do you have any idea how hard it was to see you die the first time?"

Sam froze. "First time?"

"Yes, first time! I—I don't know what's going on Sam, but this already happened—"

"Except last time I got stabbed in the back." Sam finished weakly. They stared at each other.

"What's going on, Sam?"

Sam looked away, thinking hard. "It—it doesn't make sense…I thought that the portal just…brought me here…but why would it bring you too?"

"So we're here because of the damn room?" Dean said angrily, holding his now bloody shirt firmly against Sam's wound. "What, it thought it would be fun for me to watch you die again? It really has a sick sense of humor."

Sam opened his mouth to say something but started coughing instead. His vision blurred and Dean went in and out of focus above him. After what seemed like forever the coughs stopped and his vision cleared. He looked up at his brother, and Dean stared back at him looking terrified. "Sammy?" he whispered.

"Still…here…" Sam choked out. He swallowed hard and tasted blood in his mouth.

"Just hang on, Sam. Bobby will be back soon, so just hang on." Dean said frantically. "I don't know what else to do—"

"You're doing…all you can." Sam said forcefully, grabbing onto Dean's wrist to calm him down. "You always do."

"But it's not enough!" Dean said desperately. "It's _not_! You're—you're—"

"I'm still alive."

"But you're _dying_ Sam!" he yelled. "I'm supposed to always keep you safe and you're _dying_!!" he took a shaky breath and looked at Sam, "You can't die…not again…you're all I have left."

Sam stared at his brother. He had never seen him look so upset, so defeated, and there was nothing he could say that would make him feel any better—but there was something that he _needed_ to say. "Dean…I want you to promise me something."

Dean looked at him and Sam continued softly, "Promise me…that you won't make the deal…if I die."

"No."

Sam's vision blurred again and he fought to stay conscious. "Dean, I'd rather die…than have you go to hell…because of me. Now promise!"

Dean shook his head and looked away, and as he did Sam felt something wet fall onto his cheek. _Dean was crying._ Sam gritted his teeth and began using his arms to push himself up into a sitting position.

"Sam, stop it!" Dean said frantically. "What are you doing?! You're not supposed to move!"

Sam winced at the stabbing pains shooting through his body but continued sitting up anyway. When he was done he looked at Dean, who was kneeling in front of him looking terrified. "Sam, what—"

Sam threw his arms around his brother and hugged him as tightly as he could, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. Dean knelt there in shock for a few seconds and then returned the hug just as fiercely.

"It'll be okay." Sam whispered softly as the world blurred and seemed to darken around him. "You'll be okay..." he smiled faintly, took one last shaky breath, and died.

**Please review, reviews make me write faster! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Here's a nice long chapter!**

_Sam threw his arms around his brother and hugged him as tightly as he could, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. Dean knelt there in shock for a few seconds and then returned the hug just as fiercely._

"_It'll be okay." Sam whispered softly as the world blurred and seemed to darken around him. "You'll be okay…" he smiled faintly, took one last shaky breath, and died._

Dean knew it the moment it happened, the moment that he felt his brother go limp in his arms. _ Sam was dead. _ "Noooo…" he whimpered, hugging Sam tighter against his chest, as though by will alone he could bring him back. "No…_no, no, no_...Oh God, please no, not again…_not again…_Sammy!"

Sam stared down at the scene in shock. He was standing a few feet away where he had appeared only moments before, watching Dean sob uncontrollably over his body…_his body_…

With growing dread, Sam raised a hand in front of his face and discovered that he could see right through it. "I'm dead." he said slowly, the realization hitting him like a bucket of ice water. "I—I'm dead…"

Dean's heart-wrenching sobs continued, and as Sam stood unseen beside him he realized with a jolt that he had never ever heard his brother really cry before. Dean never cried; he was always calm and collected all the time, so _together_, so unwilling to ever betray even the slightest glimpse of what he was feeling…

"Dean…" Sam said, his voice breaking, "Dean, stop."

"Oh, isn't this touching!" A voice said gleefully. Dean's head jerked up, his eyes overflowing with tears. Mrs. Winters was standing right beside him.

"What the hell?" Sam blurted out, unheard. "Where did _she _come from??"

Mrs. Winters smiled at Dean, unaware of Sam's presence. "Whatever is the matter, Dean, gone and gotten your baby brother killed again?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You."

She laughed. "Is that really all you have to say to me? One word? I have to admit I'm more than a little disappointed…"

Dean gently lowered Sam's body to the ground and then stood up and glared at her. "You're somehow behind all of this, aren't you?"

"May-be." She said, her smile widening.

"I'm gonna kill you." Dean spat, looking murderous. "I swear—"

"Oh calm down," she interrupted, rolling her eyes, "It's not that bad. So your brother's dead—big deal. Boo-hoo, let's all cry." She smiled wickedly, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Come on Dean, admit it, you're _soo_ much better off without him."

Dean swung his fist as hard as he could toward her head—and went right through her. His mouth dropped open. "What the hell??"

"Something wrong, sweetheart?"

"What are you?" he demanded angrily.

Instead of answering, she shut her eyes for a moment. Her whole image flickered and then instantly changed to that of a beautiful young brunette woman. When she opened her eyes they were icy blue.

"Well…" Sam said from where he was watching, confused. "This is slightly unexpected…"

Dean opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. "Do you really want to know who I am, Dean?" she whispered, a twisted smile on her lips.

"Sure," Dean said menacingly, getting out a gun. "I'd love to know, it'll make it even easier to kill you. At this point I'm so pissed off I could shoot anyone."

"You're not going to kill me Dean…you can't…no one can." She laughed softly, "My real name is Rebecca Winters—but you already know all about me, remember? I already told you…"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Rebecca? You mean your great-grandmother who murdered all eight of her own children?"

"She's not my grandmother…she's _me._ I'm Rebecca."

"Sure you are." Dean said disbelievingly, shaking his head. His gaze fell on his brother's body and he quickly looked away. "So what is this, some kind of messed up nightmare?"

"No." she said calmly. "You're not dreaming. This is real."

"I refuse to believe that…Sam can't be dead." Dean said. He raised the gun and fired.

The bullet passed right through her as though she wasn't even there.

"Don't waste your time." She said dismissively. "I already told you, you can't kill me. I've been alive for over 200 years."

"And how exactly did you manage that, huh?"

"I have…certain abilities. You don't need to know the specifics…I have to admit, though, I feel a _teensy-weensy_ bit bad that Sam's dead…I'd never met anyone else with abilities like mine before…"

"What abilities?"

She shook her head. "Why should I tell you? I don't owe you anything, Dean…"

"_You killed my brother_!" Dean yelled, "Now tell me what the hell you're talking about!"

She smiled. "Now Dean, that's hardly fair…after all, it was Jake that stabbed Sam, not me. However, I suppose I could humor you with answers just this once. So, you want to know about my abilities? Hmmm…let me see," she thoughtfully chewed on her bottom lip, "Well, first off I can change my appearance at will—course you already know that since I totally fooled you with my helpless old woman look. Secondly, I am indestructible—Nothing can kill me, and I don't age. And finally," she said, her eyes shining, "I can travel backward and forwards through time as I please."

"Whoa." Sam said softly.

"You know what I think?" Dean said loudly. "I think you're totally insane and out of your damn mind."

"Is that so? Yet here we are, in the past…Guess what, Dean? I set you up from the moment you and Sam entered the Inn. Did you really believe that _every single room _in the Inn was full except Room 37? How silly of you."

"I knew it!" Sam said angrily, mentally kicking himself. "I knew something was going on!"

"What did you do?" Dean asked her.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked innocently, playfully twirling a curl of her dark hair around her finger.

"You know perfectly well what I mean! _What did you do_?"

Rebecca laughed excitedly. "Oh, you're so cute when you're angry, Dean! It's sweet, really, how much you cared about Sam…who's dead…and the rest of your family…also dead. But hey, that's how it goes, right? It's a cruel world."

Dean let out an enraged yell. "Damn it, just answer the question!"

"Alright, I'll tell you." she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Did you know that Room 37 used to be _my _bedroom…back before I discovered my abilities some 200 years ago…" she looked up at Dean, who remained silent. "I'll take that as a no, then…I have to admit, Dean, I thought you would at least figure _something_ out on your own. You are a hunter, after all. Apparently I gave you far too much credit."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't really that concerned with your life story—"

"_Of course not_, you were working on how to get Sam out of the room and save his life…" she looked down at Sam's body. "Oh my, _that_ didn't go very well, did it? For you, anyway…in my case everything went splendidly, just like always."

"_Shut up_!" Dean yelled. "Just _shut up_!"

"Aww, but we're having such a nice chat…" she said pleasantly. "Tell me, Dean…now that Sam's dead, who are you planning on talking to? It's not like you have anyone else—"

Sam watched as Dean's entire face contorted in rage and he pointed his gun at Rebecca and began shooting at her. "Dean! _Stop it_!" he yelled desperately. "Don't listen to her, she's just provoking you! You can't let her get to you!"

Unsurprisingly, Dean didn't hear him, and kept on shooting. Sam yelled in frustration and looked away.

Rebecca stood there calmly until Dean had emptied the last of the clip and was out of bullets. She sighed and shook her head, "How many times do I have to tell you? You. Can't. Kill. Me."

"You're a murderer!"

"Yeah I know, I've killed…" she paused, thinking, and then shrugged. "You know what, I don't really know exactly how many people I've killed, but believe me, it's quite a high number. In retrospect, I probably should have kept better records, but I just never could find the time—the Inn is always _so_ busy, after all."

"You mean it's just full of people for you to kill." Dean said sarcastically.

"Oh don't be so cynical…I don't kill _everyone_. Plenty of people come to my Inn all the time and really enjoy themselves…but then there are always the people that I send up to Room 37: the ones I know no one would ever miss for years, if at all. The ones whose lives are screwed up beyond repair. The brokenhearted pitifully depressing misfits."

"And that would be us..." Sam muttered sadly.

"What, you thought no one would miss Sam or me if we went missing?" Dean demanded.

"Of course no one would miss you; you're the biggest losers I've ever seen! And anyway, even if someone noticed you were gone, it's not as if you told anyone where you were." She smiled. "No one can help you."

"We're still in Room 37, aren't we? People will come looking for us—"

"Haven't you been paying attention at all?" she said impatiently. "We aren't in Room 37 anymore; we're in your past! Room 37 is the portal that brought us all here, the portal that I created! I use it to trap people, have a little fun scaring them to death, and then give them the chance of a lifetime—the chance to try to change their past, fix their problems…"

"Oh come on! You're making it sound like you help them, but you failed to mention that they all end up dead!"

"Yeah, well, that's the thing, Dean—I don't even have to do anything. It turns out that no one can change the past because it's written in stone. Whatever happened is going to happen again no matter what they try to do—because of fate. Most of them just can't handle failure a second time, so they commit suicide…" she shrugged. "Less work for me…of course Sam's case is different. He tried to stop himself from getting killed." She paused, and then raised an eyebrow at Dean. "Do you know why he would do that?"

Dean looked at her exasperatedly. "Maybe because he didn't want to be dead?"

Rebecca let out a sigh. "You seriously don't know, do you? Or are you just trying to deny the truth?"

"What truth?"

"Sam didn't really care that he died, Dean." She said seriously. "Don't get me wrong, he tried his hardest to prevent getting killed, but that really wasn't his reason for coming back to this point in time."

"What are you talking about?" Dean said slowly.

"Isn't it obvious? He came back to stop you from making the deal." she said dramatically. "It turns out he'd rather be dead than have you go to hell because of him…the guilt has been eating him up inside for _months_."

Dean sighed and looked down at the ground. "I know." He said softly. "But I don't regret making that deal—"

"Exactly! You don't regret making the deal because it got you your brother back." She laughed softly. "You do realize how selfish you are, don't you? I mean, did you ever think about how he would feel about the whole 'my big brother's going to hell and it's entirely my fault' situation? No. You didn't. You thought only of yourself, and Sam's been regretting that ever since he died and you brought him back…and that is exactly why you're here."

"This can't be good…" Sam whispered fearfully.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Do you have a point?"

"Usually I just bring one person at a time through the portal—the person I trapped in the room. However, Sam's situation is interesting in that it involves _you_."

"Can you just skip to the point, please? You're giving me a freakin' headache." Dean snapped.

Rebecca smiled wickedly. "Sam doesn't want you to make the deal…in fact I believe he begged you with his dying breath not to do it." She paused, and then continued in a low voice, "I fully intend to make Sam suffer just like everybody else…and he's really not suffering while he's dead, because that's exactly what he wants. You're going to make him suffer, Dean, and you're going to do it far more effectively than I ever could."

"I would never do anything to hurt him, surely you know that!" Dean said loudly.

She stepped closer to him. "Oh, but you will Dean, you will. First, I'm going to wipe out your memory of the last few months so that you think little Sammy's died for the first time. You'll get upset all over again and rush to the crossroad demon to make a deal, and I'll make sure that this time she does it properly and sends you straight to hell instead of giving you a year." She grinned at Dean's fearful expression. "And do you know what the best part is? When Sam wakes up, he'll still remember the last few months and his decision to try to alter the past—and he'll realize that it's his fault that you got sent to hell early!" She laughed happily. "Damn, I'm good!"

"It won't work." Dean said defiantly, trying to remain calm as feelings of panic swept through his body. "It won't."

"Yes it will." Rebecca said confidently. "After all…I _always_ win." Before Dean could say anything else, she raised her hand and the whole area was flooded with a blinding white light. Dean felt a sudden burst of pain hit his body, and he fell to the ground unconscious.

**Please Review! Thanks!**


	13. Chapter 13

"Dean…" a voice said softly, "Dean?"

Dean groaned. His head was spinning in circles and he felt like he had slept for a week. What was going on? A hand gently shook his shoulder and then the voice continued, "Dean, I'm sorry, but you can't sleep forever. It's time to wake up."

"Sam?" Dean moaned, not opening his eyes. When the voice didn't respond he kept talking, "What happened last night, man? Damn, it feels like I have the biggest hangover ever…" The grip on Dean's arm tightened ever so slightly and then let go completely. For a long moment there was only silence.

"Oh no…" Sam moaned from where he was standing unseen, watching the exchange take place. "Oh God, he doesn't remember…"

"Dean." the voice said again.

Dean slowly opened his eyes and realized who was waking him. "…Bobby?" he whispered, bewildered. He looked around and found that he was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala; his door was open and Bobby was standing just outside, watching him. Dean shook his head again as though to clear his mind. "What's going on?"

Sam turned away and shut his eyes, feeling a tear escape and slide down his cheek. All of his fears were confirmed; Rebecca had succeeded in erasing Dean's memory of the last four months. Everything was going to happen exactly as she had said…_everything_…

Bobby took a sharp intake of breath at Dean's obvious confusion and looked away. "You…you don't remember what happened?"

Dean stared at him and bit his lip. "No, I don't." he paused and looked around, realizing with a jolt of panic who was missing. "Where's Sam?"

Bobby opened his mouth to say something and then shut it again with a sigh.

"Where's Sam?" Dean demanded loudly, his heart racing.

Sam shook his head weakly. "Don't tell him Bobby…please don't tell him…"

"Dean, I'm so sorry…" Bobby said gently, "Sam…Sam's dead."

Dean jerked and looked up wildly; his mind racing as all the unwanted memories came rushing back in an instant. Sam disappearance from the diner—Calling Bobby to help—Tracking down his brother's location—Arriving too late—_All the blood_—

"No." he whispered shakily.

"Damn it, Dean, don't do this!" Sam said helplessly. "You have to remember!"

"_No_!" Dean yelled, quickly standing up and glaring at Bobby. "He's not dead! You're lying!"

Bobby backed up a step and then just looked at him sadly, his gaze full of pity. "He's in there." He said softly, pointing at the small wooden building next to the car. "Dean—"

Dean started running towards the building before Bobby could finish his sentence. He yanked open the door and rushed inside, looking around wildly. Sam couldn't be dead, he couldn't—he was just injured, that was all—

His gaze fell on a bed in the corner and he froze in mid-stride.

Sam was lying motionless on the mattress, his arms placed casually over his stomach.

It looked as though his brother was only sleeping, but Dean didn't hope. He knew better than that.

Sam was dead. His little brother was dead, and he wasn't going to wake up this time. He wasn't going to be okay.

Dean shakily let out the breath he'd been holding and then slowly breathed in again, allowing the cool air to flow through his lungs.

He was alive…and Sam wasn't.

How could this have happened? This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Behind him, Bobby gently pushed open the door and stepped inside. The protesting wail of the door's un-oiled hinges seemed to echo loudly through the room, but Dean didn't look up. His gaze was fixed on Sam's body.

Sam squeezed in through the open door behind Bobby and stared at his brother. Dean was standing there motionless, staring at his body. He had his back to him, so he couldn't see the expression on Dean's face—not that he wanted to.

They all stood there for several minutes before Dean finally spoke, his voice unnaturally hard, controlled. "What happened?"

Bobby sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Well, I drove off in the Impala to find someone that could help Sam…" he paused, and then sighed again. "God, I'm sorry, Dean—there was no one. Anywhere. The road was deserted for miles and miles, and when I did occasionally find a house nobody was ever home…after about fifteen minutes I gave up and drove back to where you were."

"And?" Dean demanded.

"And you were lying on the ground unconscious next to Sam...he was already dead when I got there, Dean. There was nothing that I could do…I carried you both to the Impala and then drove here."

"Oh." Dean said simply. "So…so I've only been out for about an hour then."

"Dean…" Bobby said cautiously, "I couldn't bring myself to wake you…you've been unconscious for a little over six hours."

"Six hours." Dean said, his voice still mostly calm. "It's been six hours?"

"Yes."

"He's—he's been—dead—for six hours?"

Bobby swallowed hard and looked down. "Yes."

"Oh." Dean said. He paused for a moment, and then slowly turned around. His face was emotionless and blank, his expression unreadable. "Oh."

"Dean, do you—"

"I need a drink." Dean said, sinking down into the nearest chair.

"But—"

"Bobby. I _need _a drink. Right now."

"Dean…drinking won't help the situation, it'll just make it worse—"

"Oh, no, I disagree. I honestly don't think this could get any worse." Dean said conversationally. "In this moment, _right now,_ I have to say that I have never ever felt any worse in my entire life. Sam is _dead _Bobby. Dead. Forever. This is basically the worst it's ever gonna get, and I think that I deserve to have a drink, so humor me, won't you?"

Bobby remained motionless, staring sympathetically at Dean. "Dean, I know this is hard…hell, I loved Sam too, but you getting totally wasted is not going to help the situation."

"Yeah, having Sam alive would help the situation, but since that's apparently not happening—" he broke off and looked away.

"Dean, we're running out of time and we need to find the demon—"

Dean let out a bitter laugh and sat back in his chair. "You just don't get it do you Bobby? Sam just died…_my brother_ just died. Cut me some slack, why don't you?"

"Dean…I know that you need some time to grieve, but as it is we really don't have time right now. Something big is going down. End of the world big."

"Well then, let it end." Dean said bitterly.

Sam's eyes locked on his brother's face in shock. _Let it end? _How could say that? Dean had been hunting demons forever…how could he just give up? Especially now?

"You don't mean that." Bobby said, echoing Sam's astonishment.

Dean looked up at him, his eyes flashing with anger. "You don't think so? Huh? You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough?" he abruptly stood up and walked right up to Bobby, his voice getting louder with every step, "I'm done with it. _All of it._ And if you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and get the hell out of here—GO!" he shoved Bobby toward the door.

Bobby stood there, staring at Dean in shock. Dean stared at him for a second and then looked down with a sigh. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry. Please—just go."

"You know where I'll be." Bobby said quietly. He turned around and walked out the door without another word. Dean stood there motionless, staring at the ground, as an engine started up outside and Bobby slowly drove away, leaving him alone.

Alone.

All alone.

"No." Dean whispered, the full impact of Sam's death finally sinking in. "No." His vision started spinning and he felt as though all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs. Bile rose up in his throat and he mentally pushed it back down as he staggered over to the mattress where his brother's body lay. He stared down at Sam's motionless form for a moment and then his knees gave way and he collapsed on the floor. "Sam." he whispered shakily. "Sammy."

"Dean." Sam said, quickly kneeling next to the bed beside his brother. "Dean, I'm right here. I'm right beside you."

Dean continued staring at his brother's body, and a single tear trickled down his cheek. "Come on, Sammy, you can't be dead…_you can't_. Not now…not…oh…" Dean's voice gave out and he began sobbing uncontrollably into Sam's lifeless chest. "Sammy…_no_."

"Dean." Sam choked. "Dean—"

Dean suddenly pushed himself back angrily and abruptly stood up, tears pouring down his face. "How could you do this to me?!" he yelled suddenly, furiously, "Damn it Sam, how could you—how—_how could you leave me like this_?!"

Sam's mouth dropped open in shock and he stared motionless at his brother.

Dean let out another anguished sob. "How could you die and leave me all alone? How could you do that to me?! You're all I had left, Sam!"

"I didn't leave you Dean, I promise!" Sam said frantically, standing up to face his older brother. "I'm still here, you just can't see me—"

"You're all I had left, and I—and I—" Dean broke off and let out a shaky breath. "I treated you like crap…all the time."

"That's not true—"

"You were always trying to help me and get me to talk…and I ignored you. I yelled at you, hit you, pushed you away…" he laughed bitterly. "And now that I'd give anything just to hear your voice…you're dead…and I'll—I'll never get to talk to you again."

"Dean, _stop it_." Sam demanded helplessly.

Dean shook his head miserably. "You're all I had left, Sam…you kept me going through all those hunts, held me together after Dad died. If it wasn't for you I would have fallen apart long ago…I _needed _you there with me…way more than you ever needed me…"

"What are you talking about?!" Sam said sharply. "You're my brother, Dean, of course I need you—"

"But I never told you that…I never told you half of what I should have. I never told you that I appreciated you sticking with me when you could've had a normal, decent life." He sank warily down into a chair, still staring at the body. "What a great brother I am, I never even told you that I love you, Sammy…but I guess it's too late to tell you that now, isn't it? You're gone…and I'm all alone."

Sam's eyes blurred with tears. "I already knew that Dean, you never actually had to _say_ it…" Dean just continued staring straight ahead, oblivious to Sam's presence. Sam walked over and stood right beside him. "_Come on_, don't do this again, Dean! You have to remember—the last few months, Room 37, Rebecca—anything!" he reached out a hand and placed it on Dean's shoulder. Dean shivered but didn't look up. "You felt that, didn't you? I know you felt that, you felt it back in the room too." Sam extended his arm further right through his brother's shoulder and watched as Dean folded his arms across his chest and shivered again. "Damn it, Dean! I'm trying to contact you here and all you do is shiver?! We daily fight the supernatural and you don't even notice that I'm right here beside you?! _Look at me_!"

Dean remained quiet, his eyes downcast. Sam removed his arm after a moment and dejectedly sat down on the floor right next to his brother's chair. They sat there in silence for a while before Dean spoke again, his voice soft, "When you were little, couldn't have been more than five, you just started asking questions…how come we didn't have a mom, why did we always have to move around, where's Dad…I remember I begged you. 'Quit asking, Sammy. You don't want to know.' I just wanted you to be a kid. Just for a little while longer. Always tried to protect you. Keep you safe." He took a shaky breath and smiled slightly, remembering, "Dad didn't even have to tell me, it's just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job…I had one job…and I screwed it up. I blew it, and for that I'm sorry. I guess that's what I do—I let down the people I love. Y'know, I let Dad down, and now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down, too." He looked up angrily, his eyes swimming in tears. "How can I? How am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do? Sammy? What am I supposed to do?"

Sam knew what was coming. He could tell by the mad glint in his brother's eye, the firm set of his jaw. "Dean—_please_—don't—"

"_What am I supposed to do?"_ Dean yelled, lashing out angrily and kicking the bed-frame.

"_Don't make the deal, Dean!_" Sam yelled back, matching his brother's intensity. "That's what you're supposed to do, that's what _I_ want you to do!"

Dean stood there trembling with his eyes squeezed shut, every breath coming out ragged and uneven. He was lost in his own thoughts, desperately thinking of a way to fix the hopeless situation he was in. Nothing would work—_nothing_—nothing would bring people back from the dead— "No…" he whispered. "No, there has to be _something_…"

His eyes snapped open in a sudden realization.

"_No_…" Sam moaned helplessly, recognizing the determined gleam in his brother's eyes.

Dean took one last long look at Sam's cold, lifeless body.

He knew what he had to do.

**Only a few more chapters left to go! **

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	14. Chapter 14

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Sam watched his brother turn around and walk straight towards the building's door. "_No_ Dean!" he yelled frantically, "Don't you dare walk out that door! Don't you dare go to the crossroads! Do you hear me?!"

No. Of course not. Silly question.

The door slammed shut in his face and Sam let out a frustrated yell. He ran forward through the wall and saw that Dean was already climbing into the drivers seat of the Impala. "Dean—Dean—stop!" he reached out a hand and tried to touch the car, but his hand went right through the metal. Dean was going to the crossroads—and Sam couldn't get in the car—

He couldn't go with him…couldn't stop him.

With a blast of Metallica music, Dean floored the gas pedal and speeded away leaving a cloud of dust behind in his wake.

Sam stood there staring after him, a million emotions all threatening to overcome him. This couldn't be happening, it _couldn't_.Dean was going to die and go to hell—early—_because of him_. "Shit…" he whispered, clutching his head in his hands. "Shit."

Sam looked up, and gazed down the road. The Impala had already vanished from sight, leaving him feeling depressed and empty. It was hopeless—totally hopeless.

"No." he said angrily. "No! You think it's over, Rebecca? You think you've won? Well guess what—it's not over yet!" Sam broke into a run, his feet hitting the dirt road in a soundless rhythm as he charged after his brother.

Running was so easy, so effortless now that he was dead. His lungs didn't require air, his body didn't tire. It felt as though he could keep running forever if he had to. He rounded another bend and realized that the air was becoming foggy, but he assumed it was nothing and kept on going.

As he continued the fog got thicker and thicker with every stride, quickly engulfing him. The world around him became completely silent; even the birds stopped chirping. The sky became dark as the dense fog blocked out the sunlight, casting everything in a gray and murky glow.

Within minutes everything was totally concealed by the fog, and Sam slowed his pace to a cautious walk when he realized that he could only see about a foot in front of him in every direction.

Something wasn't right—he was sure of it. Fog didn't usually just appear this thick in the middle of a perfectly sunny day. But the road was still there, and that was all that mattered. He could see it directly in front of him—it was the only thing he could still see—and it would take him to Dean.

A twig snapped behind him and Sam froze in mid-stride. For a moment there was only silence, and then—

Footsteps. Behind him.

Fear shot through him and Sam broke into a run again, quickening his pace to stay ahead.

The footsteps sped up to match his pace, getting louder and louder, closer and closer. Sam ran faster, knowing that anything that would chase him when he was already dead couldn't be good.

The footsteps continued getting louder until they were practically thundering in Sam's ears. He sprinted blindly through the fog, the road barely visible underneath his feet. He had to escape whatever was behind him—had to find Dean—

WHAM

Sam tripped on something lying in the path and fell flat on his face. Startled, he pushed himself up to his knees and looked ahead—

His mouth fell open in shock.

The air in front of him was completely clear and the fog had vanished, allowing him to see his surroundings perfectly—the road ended directly in front of him.

Not _ended_ as in hit a dead-end, _ended _as in ceased to exist.

Sam stood up on the road and stepped forward a few feet in disbelief. A few yards in front of him, the road, along with the ground, stopped suddenly at the jagged edge of a cliff. It was as though he was standing on an inconceivably tall mountain top staring down into a great abyss. "This is impossible…" he gasped. "What—what—what could have done this?!"

"Something wrong, Sammy dear?"

Sam spun around. "Rebecca."

Rebecca smiled, breathing hard. "You run fast, Sam. For a while there I didn't think I was going to be able to catch you."

Sam stared at her. She was so beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Bright blue eyes, porcelain skin, a killer figure, dark hair falling in perfect ringlets around her face—

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing—it's nothing...did you do all this?" he asked, gesturing at the cliff and the fog.

Rebecca nodded. "Yeah. Do you like it? Oh, don't look at me like that…admit it, you're impressed."

He looked straight into her eyes. "Please…I need to get to my brother before he sells his soul for me. I have to stop him."

"Tough." She said simply. "That's not happening."

"Well why not?!" Sam yelled angrily. "_Why_, Rebecca?!"

"I'm not going to let you save him."

"Why?! I never did anything to you, I'd never even seen you before we stopped at the Inn!"

Rebecca shook her head dismissively. "You've got it all wrong, I don't have anything against _you_ _personally_, Sam—in fact, I like you quite a lot."

Sam laughed bitterly and glanced around at his surroundings. "Of course you do, that's so obvious—_that's_ why I'm dead and my brother's off at the crossroads again! It all makes perfect sense now!"

"Don't be all sarcastic, it doesn't fit your personality. Besides, I'm telling the truth—I do like you. You fascinate me, intrigue me…and do you know why?" she cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

"You know what, I don't care. I don't care what you think, I don't care what your reasons are for doing what you do, _I don't care! _And I don't have time to talk to you right now because I have to find Dean, so if you'll excuse me—"

"I like you because you're like _me_, Sam. You and me—we're the same."

Sam froze and glared at her. "I don't know where you made that connection, but I'm _nothing_ like you—nothing!"

"Don't tell me you don't see the link between us. We're both exceptionally powerful people—"

"Yeah—powerful. Right. I have visions that give me headaches, and you can, oh I don't know, travel through time, distort reality, live forever, and I don't even know what else...oh, and you're insane and want to kill everyone—you're right, we're so similar, it's scary."

"You're a smart guy, Sam—use your brain. I'm over 200 years old. Do you honestly think that all of my abilities sprung up overnight?" she laughed, "Of course not! It took _years and years _for them to develop. They started off as visions—at first I thought that I was going insane, but I learned to control them after a while, and in time my abilities increased. You're only in your 20's, Sam…you're still in the inexperienced vision stage."

"You're crazy…you don't know what you're talking about."

"No, I know _exactly_ what I'm talking about. Do you want to know what I learned over the years, Sam? Here's a little life lesson for you: people like you and me—we don't belong with everyone else. Normal people are scared of us because we're different and unpredictable, and they won't accept us. They want us dead."

"That's not true—"

"Come _on_ Sam, don't kid yourself! You know it's true…every hunter alive would be lining up to destroy you if they ever found out exactly what you are." She looked at him sympathetically and then continued, "Even worse, your own brother is scared of you—don't deny it, you've seen it in his eyes more than once. And, if I recall correctly, didn't your own father practically order him to kill you?"

Sam shook his head, looking hurt, "He didn't know—" he paused. "How did you know about that?"

"I'm psychic, remember? Anyway, people can't be trusted."

"You had to have trusted _someone_ over the years…what about your family?"

Rebecca let out a little snort of laughter. "Family! That's funny, Sam, you're a real comedian! You know what—my _family_ thought I was insane. When my visions started, my husband was terrified. He thought something was mentally wrong with me…he thought I was psychotic. He tried to kill me, Sam. Said it was for my own good, that I would be better off dead. _I loved him_. I loved him and he tried to kill me. When I lived he said that I had tried to commit suicide and signed me up at a psych ward. Soon my own children were scared to be in the same room with me, all my friends deserted me…" she narrowed her eyes at him. "And I _hated_ them. How could they do that to me? _How dare they?_ They had no right." She looked up at him angrily. "So I murdered them."

"_What?!"_

"Don't act so surprised, Sam. For what they did to me, they deserved death! I was scared, I didn't know what was happening to me, and instead of being supportive of my visions they all deserted me and treated me like a freak! I am not a freak, Sam, and neither are you. We deserve better than how ordinary people treat us. They don't deserve us—they don't deserve to live."

"Listen Rebecca, I'm sorry that you suffered, _really_, but that gives you no right to kill people!"

"Yeah, it does actually. They want to kill me, I kill them first—it's all totally fair." She said shrugging. "Listen to me, Sam. I'm not killing Dean to make you suffer. I'm getting rid of him to save you from a lot of heartbreak—it would have only been a matter of time before he turned on you. You're so much better than him, Sam…he doesn't deserve you."

Dean's eyes widened and he stepped toward her in anger. "Dean would _never_ turn on me! He's my brother—hell, he's my best friend! I'd do anything for him, and he'd do anything for me! And if you hadn't noticed, he's at the crossroads _right now_ trading his soul for my life!"

"He would have turned on you eventually; it was only ever a matter of when."

"_You're wrong!_" Sam spat.

"People only bring pain." She said sadly. "Always…"

"Not Dean." Sam said furiously. "He would _never_ do anything to hurt me."

Rebecca shook her head and smiled sympathetically at him. "I'm sorry that you're upset, Sam, but I really am doing this for your own good…Dean's nothing but a deadweight that's been dragging you down for years."

"Dragging _me_ down??" Sam yelled lividly. "If anything, I've been dragging him down! You have no idea what Dean is like! Besides, are you _really _doing this for me? Or are you doing this to get some sick revenge for what happened to you 200 years ago? Can't you just give it a rest and move on with your life??"

"No." she said simply. "I can't."

Sam let out an angry hiss of breath and crossed his arms angrily. "Fine! Have it your way, destroy the world!" he stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. "But if you really are trying to help me…if you really care what I think…take me to the crossroads."

She looked at him quizzically. "Why? You're dead, Sam. Even if you were at the crossroads Dean wouldn't be able to see you. There's no way for you to stop him from making the deal."

"I don't care! Just take me there."

She stared back at him, unblinking, meeting the intensity of his gaze. "Okay Sam." She said softly, looking away. "I'll take you to the crossroads so you can watch…but I don't know why you would want to." She held out her right hand. "Take my hand."

Sam hesitated for a second and then took her hand. The air instantly exploded with a blinding white light, and he squeezed his eyes shut and shielded them with his other hand.

"—following in Daddy's footsteps…you want to make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead and—let me guess—you're offering up your own soul?"

Sam's eyes flew open and he hastily pulled his hand out of Rebecca's. They were standing in the middle of the crossroads, mere yards away from Dean and the demon, who had taken the form of a striking young woman.

"There are a hundred other demons who would love to get their hands on it…and it's all yours. All you gotta do is bring Sam back…and give me ten years—ten years, and then you come for me."

"You must be joking." The demon said coldly.

"Yeah, Dean, you have to be joking…please be joking." Sam whispered, stepping closer to his brother.

Dean paused, allowing her words of rejection to sink in. "That's the same deal you give everybody else—"

"You're not everybody else." She interrupted, and then paused, the hint of a smile on her face. "Why would I want to help you anyway? Keep your gutter soul…it's too tarnished anyway."

"Walk away, Dean…" Sam pleaded. "Just walk away…"

"Nine years."

Sam let out a yell of frustration. "Damn it Dean!"

The demon looked at Dean and shrugged. "No."

Rebecca sighed at Sam's obvious distress and glanced at him. "You already know what's gonna happen, Sammy…accept it, your brother's life is over."

"Eight."

"I'm not going to accept it!" Sam shouted. "I can't, Rebecca! I won't!"

The demon laughed at Dean, amused at his obvious distress. "You keep going, I'll keep saying no."

"Okay…five years—five years and my bill comes due." Dean looked up at her determinedly. "That's my last offer…five years or no deal."

She smiled seductively at Dean and slowly leaned toward him as though she planned to seal the deal with a kiss—and then turned away at the last second. "_Then no deal_." She whispered playfully in his ear.

"Fine." Dean said, shrugging it off as though it didn't really matter.

"Fine." The demon turned around and began to walk away, swinging her hips with every step. "Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint."

"Wait!" Dean pleaded, his voice cracking. Sam stared at his brother in shock, mesmerized by the expression on his face. He looked so broken, so utterly hopeless, so…_lost._ The tough façade Dean always kept locked in place was totally gone, replaced by something else entirely—unbearable desperation. "What do I have to do?" he whispered.

"Oh _Dean_…" Sam whispered hopelessly.

She rolled her eyes and walked back over. "First of all, quit groveling…needy guys are such a turn-off." After pausing for a moment, she sighed and then seemed to come to a decision. "Look…look, I shouldn't be doing this—I could get in a lot of trouble…but what can I say, I've got a blind spot for ya Dean…" she breathed in deeply, as if to drink in all of his despair, "You're like a—puppy, you're just too fun to play with…I'll do it."

Dean's eyes instantly lit up. "You'll bring him back?"

"Don't do this, Dean…" Sam moaned. "Please just don't."

"I will." She replied with a small smile. "I'll bring back your brother—in exchange for your soul. Little Sammy wakes up perfectly healthy with his whole life ahead of him—and you go straight to hell…just like that…" She snapped her fingers and grinned. "So…what's it gonna be, Dean? Is it a deal?"

**Cues the dramatic music**

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	15. Chapter 15

_Dean's eyes instantly lit up. "You'll bring him back?"_

"_Don't do this, Dean…" Sam moaned. "Please just don't."_

"_I will." She replied with a small smile. "I'll bring back your brother—in exchange for your soul. Little Sammy wakes up perfectly healthy with his whole life ahead of him—and you go straight to hell…just like that…" She snapped her fingers and grinned. "So…what's it gonna be, Dean? Is it a deal?" _

Time seemed to stop. Dean shut his eyes and paused for a brief moment to consider his two options: life without Sam or an eternity in Hell. _Both such great choices...but there really wasn't a question about what he would choose. _He opened his eyes and looked straight at the demon."Yes," he replied solemnly, "It's a deal."

"No!" Sam shouted frantically, realizing . "No!" he turned to Rebecca. "Do something!"

She shook her head. "I already have, Sam…this _is_ what I want to happen…someday you'll understand—you'll be better off when your brother's dead."

The demon stepped toward Dean and stopped inches away from him. "Well…" she breathed, "I'm ready when you are sweetheart."

Dean looked at her suspiciously. "How do I know you're even going to keep your end of the deal? How do I know you'll bring Sam back?"

"I always keep my word." She promised. "Always...and don't even bother asking me to let you see him alive before you go—not gonna happen. You're just going to have to trust me…is that so hard?"

Dean looked skeptical. "Yeah, well, forgive me if I have a problem with trusting demons…"

"Oh, stop wasting my time." She growled. "It doesn't matter if you trust me or not, I am _the only thing_ that can bring your precious Sammy back from the dead…" a sadistic smile flitted across her face, "Or do you have another option? After all, you are the big brother, Dean…it's _your _job to watch after Sam. Is there a Plan B that you're not telling me about?"

Dean sighed and looked away. "…no."

Her smile widened. "How…_tragic_. The infamous Dean Winchester…powerless to stop his brother from dying and powerless to bring him back—good thing you have me to help you."

"Shut up!" Sam yelled at her. "_Just shut up!_ Dean—don't listen to her. Don't—"

Dean just stared at the ground, accepting her cruel words as the truth. He was ready to die…he deserved it. He had failed Sam, let him die—everything was always his fault—Sam would be so much better off without him around—

The demon sighed and waved a hand in front of Dean's face to get his attention. "Look Dean, can we speed this up a little? As much as I would love to stand here all day and bask in all your misery and despair, I do have other things to do."

Dean nodded listlessly. "…yeah…" he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm ready."

Sam watched in horror as Dean slowly leaned toward her to seal the deal with a kiss—this couldn't be happening, it couldn't—Dean couldn't sell his soul for him, he would never get over it, _never_—how was he supposed to live without Dean—he was his brother—all he had—he couldn't—he'd be all alone—_never get over it_—

"**NOO!!**" Sam shrieked. Without thinking, he shot his hand out, grabbed onto his brother's shoulder, and yanked as hard as he could on his arm, sending Dean crashing safely to the ground alive and out of danger. Completely enraged, Sam turned away from Dean and glared furiously at the demon "**STAY AWAY FROM HIM!!**" he screamed, inches away from her face, "**YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM—I WON'T LET YOU HAVE HIM!!**"

The crossroad demon's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. "S-am?" she gasped. "But—but—you're dead!"

"Yeah," Sam said coldly, "I'm dead…and I'm staying that way! The deal is off!"

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly as she struggled to find words that expressed her confusion.

"_Sam…_" Rebecca said menacingly. "Though it is…_lovely_...that you have finally decided to start using your powers and show yourself to the living—what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

"S-sammy?" Dean whispered shakily from where he had fallen, his eyes locked on the transparent ghost of his younger brother. At the sound of his voice, Sam turned around and stared at his brother, glad to see him looking back. "You okay, Dean?" he asked softly. Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Sam, Sam, Sam…I am very disappointed in you." Rebecca said resentfully. "You're messing up my plan—I don't know if you forgot, but Dean was supposed to _die_, remember?"

Sam turned his head to glare at her. "He's not going to die—not while I'm here."

She laughed. "Aww, how sweet! Little Sammy's trying to save his big brother…" she glanced at Dean and winked at him. "But Sam, what's the point—why even bother?"

"What's the point??" Sam snapped. "_What's the point??_ He's my _brother_, Rebecca!"

"So? He's still a pathetic waste of life—"

"No!" Sam interrupted forcefully, "He isn't."

"How can you say that?!" she yelled, and pointed an accusing finger at Dean, "Guess what, Sam? You're dead because of him! You're dead because he distracted you!"

"No, Rebecca!" Sam shouted, "I am not dead because of him—if you want to get technical, it's actually _your fault_ that I'm dead now because _you_ were the one that brought us here to relive the past again!"

"I did it for—"

"Okay, that's enough, everybody just _stop_!" the crossroad demon interrupted crossly, glaring at Rebecca, "You people are giving me a major migraine! First of all, who are you, what are you talking about, and why are you here?!"

"It's none of your concern." Rebecca said flatly. "This is between me and Sam…stay out of it."

"It is too my concern!" she said hotly, "How dare you come here and interrupt one of my deals?! Who do you think you are?!"

"I don't have time for this…" Rebecca muttered testily. Without another word she waved her arm in the direction of the crossroad demon and the demon exploded in a fiery flash.

For a few moments no one spoke, and then Rebecca sighed and rolled her eyes. "Well now…I guess my entire plan just went awry. Dean's still alive, the crossroad demon is…indisposed…" she trailed off and bit her lip. "And you just refuse to cooperate, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"Whatever. Things just aren't—_oh no you don't!_" she shrieked suddenly, staring past Sam's shoulder. Sam spun around and saw Dean ready to shoot Rebecca with a gun—only she had frozen him in place.

"Bad idea, Dean." Rebecca snarled. She flicked a finger and Dean's wrist snapped. He cried out in pain and dropped the gun.

"Stop it!" Sam yelled at her. "No, Rebecca! Stop!"

Rebecca glanced at Sam and smiled wryly, "Sure thing, Sam…anything for you." she released her hold on Dean and watched with satisfaction as he fell to his knees, disoriented.

Dean quickly regained his footing and stood back up staring straight at his brother, his chest heaving with every breath he took. "Sammy…?"

"Dean—I—oh God, Dean…Just stand there, okay? Don't make her mad…she's really powerful and she wants you dead." Sam said quickly.

"_What is going on?_" he demanded, completely confused. He turned to Rebecca. "Who are you?"

Rebecca snorted. "I don't think you're in a position to ask questions, Dean…"

"Her name's Rebecca Winters, Dean—_you know that_!" Sam broke in urgently. "Come on, you have to remember!"

"I—I don't—Sam, I don't know what you're talking about! What am I supposed to remember?"

"Dean, Rebecca brought us back to the past—we're reliving the past! This all happened four months ago!" when Dean still looked lost Sam continued, "Four months ago Jake stabbed me in the back, I died, and you made a deal with the crossroad demon to bring me back."

"Four months ago? But—but that just happened. Besides, you—you got stabbed in the chest, not the back…" Dean stammered.

"That's because I knew it was coming so I tried to change it and ended up dying differently." Sam said, becoming frustrated, "Look, that doesn't really matter."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter, Sam? Of course it matters—"

"The crossroad demon gave you one year, Dean." Sam said flatly.

Dean blinked. "No she didn't—she wanted my soul as soon as the deal was made."

"Dean trust me, I know what I'm talking about. When it happened four months ago the demon gave you one year! Rebecca's just trying to twist the timeline because she wants you dead early!"

"Why don't you just shut-it, Sammy dear, that's enough talking." Rebecca interrupted. Sam turned and looked back at her and saw that she had her hands placed firmly on her hips in an annoyed fashion. "Dean's too stupid to understand what's going on, so why bother telling him? Why waste any time on him, for that matter? I've had enough—say goodbye to your brother, Sam."

In that instant, Sam knew that Rebecca was completely serious. She was going to kill Dean. Before she could move, Sam threw himself on top of her and knocked her to the ground. "Dean, run! Get out of here—"

Rebecca let out a scream of rage and flung Sam away from her. He landed on the ground a few yards away and quickly stood back up. Dean ran over and stood beside him. "What are you doing, Dean?? Go!"

"I'm not leaving you with that pissed off freak!" Dean said, "Besides, I don't think you made her too happy with that last move…"

Sam had to agree. Rebecca looked livid; her face was twisted into a mask of hate and her eyes were glowing red. She glared at Sam. "What are you doing?!" she hissed. "I'm trying to help you, Sam! That was my goal! And you—you—_refuse_—to be helped!"

"You want to kill my brother!" Sam snapped, "That's not helping me!"

"_Yes it is_!" she shrieked, and pointed an accusing finger at Dean. "He's _ordinary_, Sam! He doesn't understand you! He's terrified of you! He'll _never_ understand you—and one day he'll probably end up killing you!"

"Why, because your husband tried to kill you?!" Sam yelled back angrily. "Is that what you think?! What happened in your past has nothing to do with Dean! Leave him out of this!"

Rebecca just glared at him, her eyes seeming to dig into his soul. The world around them was growing dark and cloudy and a fierce wind blew all around them. "Sam…" she growled. "I'll give you one more chance…"

"To do what? Choose you over Dean? Is that what you want me to do, Rebecca? Is that what you want?!"

"Yes." She said, her hair blowing wildly around her head, her eyes locked on his. "Yes Sam, that's exactly what I want!"

"And do you think that having me on your side will make you happy? That we'll become the best of friends and everything will suddenly be okay again, like it was when you had a family?"

"You're psychic like me!" she snapped, "We're the same! We belong together!"

"_No we don't_!" Sam yelled over the wind. "I already have a family Rebecca, and killing Dean isn't going to make me forget that! I would never replace Dean with anyone—_especially not you_!"

Rebecca's eyes narrowed, and she was silent for several long seconds. "You're gonna regret this, Sam…" she said finally, her voice dangerously low, "You're going to regret choosing your worthless brother over me—together you and I could have had endless power, gotten whatever we wanted—but hey, I'm fair…you want Dean alive—I won't hurt him. But you're _dead _Sam..._dead_…and since Dean never made the deal to bring you back, you're staying dead." She looked at Dean and laughed softly. "Enjoy your life Dean—once again your brother is dead because of you." Without another word, she vanished in the blink of an eye leaving Dean and Sam alone at the crossroads.

The storm continued to rage around them, and Sam could tell that it was going to get worse. A thunderclap echoed through the air and a hard, steady flow of rain began to pour. Sam turned to Dean, who hadn't moved a muscle and was still staring at the place where Rebecca had stood. "Dean…Dean…DEAN!" he yelled, finally getting his brother's attention on the third try, "It isn't safe out here! You need to go somewhere out of the storm!"

Dean's eyes locked on his brother's, but he didn't move. "Sam…" he said, "I'm totally drenched—"

A bolt of lightning suddenly lit up the sky and seemed to touch the ground nearby. "I know, this storm is wicked, you're not safe—"

"Sam." Dean said softly, and Sam stopped when he saw the pained look in his eyes. "I'm totally drenched…and you're completely dry…and I can see right through you."

"Can we talk about this later?" Sam said, nervous about Dean's wellbeing as more lightning lit up the sky and the wind started blowing smaller branches out of the trees.

"You're really dead, aren't you?" Dean whispered, as though he was realizing it for the first time. "You're dead…" he slowly reached out his good hand to touch Sam's shoulder—and went right through him. He quickly pulled his hand back as though he had been burned. "You—y-you…"

Sam looked down at his own arm and studied it, realizing that he was more transparent than before—_fading away_— "Dean," he said, "I promise we'll talk, but first I want to get you somewhere safe."

Dean shook his head. "No."

"No?!" Sam said in disbelief. "Why the hell not?!"

"She's right…" he said sadly, "It's my fault that you're dead."

Sam's mouth fell open as he realized what Dean was thinking. "She was not right!" he said loudly. "How can you say that?!"

"I always tried to keep you safe, Sam, always! But I failed—I distracted you and Jake stabbed you! That was my fault—"

"No, Dean—"

"_Yes it was!_" Dean shouted back, "It was all my fault…and now I've failed again because I didn't make the deal to bring you back like last time."

Sam froze. "Last time?"

Dean winced. "I remember now…" he muttered, and looked away. "I remember the past four months, Room 37…everything."

"Then I bet you remember how furious I was that you made the deal and sold your soul for me in the first place! Do you remember that?!" Sam shouted.

"That's not the point!" Dean protested, "I didn't care if I had to die as long as you would be okay—and now you're…you're…"

"I'm what?" Sam shouted angrily, "I'm _what,_ Dean?!"

"_You're dead, Sammy!_" Dean shouted brokenly. He turned away, the pouring rain barely concealing the tears that began pouring down his face, "You're dead, and this time I can't do anything to bring you back! How am I supposed to live with that…" his voice trailed off and he let out a sob, "How am I supposed to live without you? I—I don't have anyone left…Mom died, Dad died…_everyone died_! You were the only person I had left, Sam! You were the one constant thing in my life and now—now—now you're dead too."

All of Sam's anger vanished instantly. He stepped closer to his brother, wanting more than anything to hug him but knowing that he couldn't—he was fading faster now, and soon he would be completely gone. "Dean…Dean, don't. Please don't cry, alright? I…" he shut his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I died—but you have to understand that it wasn't your fault."

Dean's eyes remained downcast. "But I was supposed to watch out for you…"

"You did." Sam said gratefully. "You saved me time and time again—" He laughed weakly, and continued, "You know I'm a magnet for trouble, it's like there's some demonic bulls eye on my back. The only reason I lived as long as I did was because you hovered over me 24/7."

"Well I obviously didn't hover enough." Dean said fiercely.

Sam shook his head. "Even you couldn't protect me forever, Dean." He said softly.

Dean finally looked up at his brother. Sam was almost completely transparent…his voice was getting harder and harder to hear over the storm… "You're leaving me, aren't you?" Dean whispered.

Sam sighed. "I don't have a choice…"

Dean nodded and let out a shaky breath. "Yeah…" he muttered, and paused for a few seconds. The rain started to pour harder, but he didn't pay any attention to it—his attention was completely focused on his brother. "Sam," he said, "I just wanted you to know that I—I—" his throat seemed to close and he stopped, unable to continue.

"I know, Dean…" Sam said softly. "I've always known, you never actually had to say it—I'm psychic, remember?" he smiled sadly. "You know I love you too, right?" he questioned, and then laughed to himself, "Even though you drive me insane half the time—but hey, that's what family's for, right?"

The lump in Dean's throat seemed to get even bigger. "Sammy…"

"Dean." Sam said seriously, stopping him. "Promise me that you won't let my death destroy you…promise me that you'll move on."

Dean stood perfectly still for several moments and then nodded, unable to speak.

Sam gave him a small smile. "Good…that's good." he said, and sighed. "Goodbye Dean."

He disappeared.

Dean stared at the place where his brother had been, his mind numb from the shock of what had just happened. _Sam was gone._ "No…" he muttered brokenly. "No, Sam! Come back! _Please! _Please just come back…you can't leave me here alone...not again!" he fell to his knees in the mud, clutching his head in his hands. "_Sammy…_"

The storm continued to rage around him, but Dean didn't notice, he didn't care. His brother was dead…nothing else mattered. For what seemed like forever he remained crouched in that position, wishing more than anything that he had Sam back again.

"Dean…" A voice said tentatively. Dean jerked at the sudden sound and quickly looked up to see someone standing above him—it wasn't Sam. "You…" he muttered angrily, leaping to his feet. "What the hell are you doing here?! Come to gloat, have you??"

Rebecca shook her head, "It's not what you think."

"Why don't you just get out of here, you got what you wanted—Sam's dead! DEAD! Are you happy now??!" he yelled, his voice shaking with rage.

Rebecca looked away. "No…" she admitted softly. "I'm not."

Dean opened his mouth to yell at her again and then stopped as he realized what she had said. "…what?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Excuse me?" Dean said in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," Rebecca said again, "I—I didn't know. I thought that you would desert Sam just like my husband deserted me all those years ago…I've been so bitter for so long. I didn't know that you loved your brother…I didn't know that you cared about him…I just didn't know."

"Of course I loved him!" Dean said angrily, "He's my brother! I would have done _anything_ for him!"

Rebecca sighed deeply and nodded. "I can see that now."

"Well it's a little late for that!" Dean shouted, his voice breaking, "Sam's already dead!"

Rebecca looked away and bit her lip, thinking hard. "Dean…I can help. I have another ability…something that you never found out about."

Dean ran a hand over his face, wiping away a mixture of tears and rain-water. "Unless you can somehow bring Sam back…I don't care. Just leave me alone."

Rebecca reached out and gently placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Go."

He looked up at her, trying to resist the impulse to push her hand away and strangle her. "What? Go where?"

"You know where." She said softly. Dean stared at her in confusion so she removed her hand from his shoulder. "Go to Sam, Dean."

Dean studied her, unsure of what she was saying. "Why? He's dead."

She looked right into his eyes, the faint beginning of a smile on her face. "He was…"

Before Dean could question her again she vanished into thin air leaving him alone at the crossroads again. His heart was pounding in his chest. _What had she meant?? Was Sam—_

Hardly daring to hope, Dean dashed over to the Impala. He leaped into the drivers seat and started the car, barely remembering to shut the door before he floored the gas pedal and speeded away. The fairly short drive to the building seemed to take forever, and when he finally arrived he threw open the car door without even taking the keys out of the car and ran over to the front door—

And stopped.

He froze, his hand inches away from the doorknob. What if Rebecca had just been playing with him—what if Sam was still dead—what if—

The door was suddenly yanked opened from the inside and Dean found himself staring up at the person who had opened it. For a moment they just stared at each other.

"…Sammy?"

"Dean."

**Well, there you have it! I really had a lot of fun writing this story and hope that you all enjoyed reading it! I'm hoping to write an epilogue, but if I do it'll be awhile because I leave for college tomorrow. **

**Please Review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**So I was lying in bed one night this week, and I realized that I had never actually finished this story—and I decided to. So here's the final chapter, even though it is…about six months late.**

Dean's breath caught in his throat, and he stared at Sam, terrified that if he took his eyes off of his brother for one second he would disappear. Dean looked directly into his brother's eyes, "Is…is this real?"

Sam met his brother's gaze, confusion evident on his face. "I…I think so…" he said hesitantly. He slowly ran his hand over his chest, where the wound had been, and felt only smooth, unbroken skin.

Dean concentrated on breathing, deeply, evenly, because if he didn't he was going to fall apart right there. What if it wasn't real? What if Sam was really dead and Rebecca was torturing him with false hope? "Please…" he whispered brokenly. "Please, if this is some kind of trick, or another way to make me hope that…" his voice broke, and he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. "I—I can't take anymore of this…I can't…"

Sam watched through teary eyes as Dean struggled to hold it together. "Dean...I—"

"No!" Dean interrupted wildly, taking a step back into the rain. "Listen to me, okay? I can't do this anymore, I can't watch my brother die again, I can't fail him again! Do you understand me?!"

"Dean—"

"And if that's what this is about then you might as well just kill me now, because I…I…" he broke off again and pulled out a gun. "Here!" he said shakily, and held it out to Sam.

Sam stared at his brother, stared at the look of hopelessness reflected in his wild eyes. He stared at the gun, held out to him, and his heart broke. "Dean…" he choked, and then stopped, unable to continue.

They stared at each other, green eyes locked on brown, searching for something, anything, daring the other to look away.

Sam lunged forward at the same time Dean did, and they met in the middle, Sam gripping the back of Dean's soaked leather jacket as he felt his brother wrap his arms tightly around him as though he was afraid he would suddenly vanish. "It's okay," Sam whispered. "It's me. It's really me, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh God, Sam…" Dean choked. "I thought you were dead…I thought—"

"You almost made that deal _again_, Dean!" Sam broke in, tears streaming down his face, "How could you make that deal? It wasn't worth it! I'm not worth it!"

"You died again Sam! You—you—you're my little brother! I couldn't let you die—"

"What if I hadn't been able to stop you? You'd be in Hell, Dean! Can you even begin to imagine how that would have torn me apart—"

"I had to, okay? I'm not as strong as you, I can't face this life alone!"

"Did you really think that I would just move on and be happy? That I wouldn't care? Damn it Dean, don't you get it? I need you!"

"Sammy, I—"

"No, Dean!" Sam said forcefully, pulling back slightly from his brother so that he could look directly at him. "You seem to think that your life isn't worth anything, that you're not worth saving—and you're wrong! You're my brother Dean, my best friend, and I'd do anything for you! Please…just promise me you won't do anything like that again."

Dean stared back at him, at the look of conviction in his eyes, and let out the shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I promise." He said softly.

Sam nodded, accepting that his brother meant it, and instantly felt as though some heavy weight had been lifted from him. "And I'm sorry for getting killed…twice."

Dean grimaced as the painful memories came flashing back to him. "About that—Don't _ever_ die again…you know, until you're a hundred years old with twenty kids."

Sam smirked faintly. "Twenty kids, Dean? Twenty? Isn't that a bit over the top?"

Dean shook his head, his trademark cocky grin creeping across his face. "Nope. It'd be great. Just think, you could have your own colony of intelligent lawyers."

Sam's smile widened and he shook his head. "You're impossible."

"You know you love it." Dean said confidently, his smile matching Sam's. "Besides, you're gonna have to put up with me for a while now since you saved me from making that deal with the crossroads demon."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Sam said truthfully.

Dean nodded, and as he looked around contentedly he realized for the first time since the door had opened that they were still standing out in the rain. "Soo…what do you say we go inside?"

"Good idea." Sam agreed, and the two brothers walked inside, shutting the door behind them.

Rebecca stood at a distance, unseen, watching with a genuine smile on her face for the first time in many years. She remained there for a few moments after they had gone, breathing in the fresh scent of the rain, enjoying the peace of the calming storm, and then she slowly faded away.

**Well there you have it, the final chapter, full of angst and emotion just as it should be. I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks so much for reading!**


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